How Helga Got Her Mean Back
by Skyhiatrist
Summary: When the class find out Helga is leaving for England, they bet her that she can't spend her last two months in Hillwood being 'nice'. XComplete, really this timeX
1. Helga's Bad News

A/N: Phew, a break from trying to pair those two cheeky munchkins up! As I've been writing this story I've been overwhelmed by the sheer size of it. I promise weekly updates if it seems as though people want more, (and maybe even if they don't!), but it is turning into quite a lot one, and I don't think the extra chapters are going to be any different. My aim here is to write a story that feels more like an episode of the cartoon, although I'm obviously going to stray from that path a little at some point or other. I want to say a big thank you to everyone who reviewed Love Story, and a big thank you to anyone still sitting there after trawling through these notes. As usual, I own nuttin'. Now sit back, get comfortable, and enjoy!

**CHAPTER 1 - Helga's Bad News**

_Arnold paced around his room like a caged lion. He twisted and knotted his hands together, gritted his teeth and let out spasmodic growls. To say that he was in a bad mood would have been a gross understatement. His temper had been so furiously tested that day that he could almost taste the coppery cold blood on the tip of his tongue. He could feel his morals and ethics being overpowered by his pure desire to get even, his blood was boiling. Today had been the straw that broke the camel's back. He resolved, right there and then among his gadgetry and technology, that no longer would he be such a doormat. No longer would he just ignore the things she did, letting them slide. From this day forth Arnold vowed to stop letting Helga G. Pataki get away with murder._

_His eyes darted over to his bed and for a second they flashed with bright white fire. In a heap on his crumpled duvet lay every school book he owned. Every single one. And not one of them had survived the day's events. They were all drenched in a mixture of paint, charcoal, and tapioca pudding. Maybe, just maybe, he could have forgiven her, but as he extracted a clump of loose A4 sheets from the pile he knew that just couldn't be the case. In his hand he held the soggy mass that had once been his science project. For five weeks he had been working on it, five weeks of Bunsen burners and exact measurements, and now it was nothing more than an unreadable mush, page upon page of foul smelling gunk and bleeding ink. The gooey mess coated his hands, and he threw the papers back down in disgust. Grinding his molars noisily, he resumed his pacing._

_The day had started so well, _thought Arnold, remembering how he had bounded out of bed, excited that today was the day all his hard work would pay off. The morning had flowed so smoothly. Breakfast had been ready and cooked and recognisable as traditional morning foodstuffs. For the first time since God only knew, Arnold enjoyed scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast, as opposed to salmon fillets or Irish stew. His Grandpa had offered him a lift to school in his shiny green Packard, but Arnold had politely declined. He was planning to meet Gerald on the corner, and they were going to get the bus together. Arnold always enjoyed getting the bus with Gerald, it was that peaceful time in the morning where all around them rowdy kids would be screaming and pushing, but he and Gerald could calmly discuss the police chase show that had been on television the night before.

They boarded the bus together, perfectly in time to catch it as it rolled into view. They flashed the driver their passes and sat down in their usual seats, Gerald next to the window and Arnold happily just an aisle seat across from Lila. "Good morning Arnold," she said in that sweet country voice of hers. Arnold was pleasently suprised; he was usually the one who had to start up the conversations with her.

"Morning Lila," he had said, just feeling in a thoroughly good mood that day. While Lila spent most of the journey chatting animatedly to Sheena and he himself discussed things with Gerald, they did manage to grab snippets of conversation with each other, and Arnold definitely decided that was better than nothing. He sat back in his chair and ran his hand over the back of his neck, even the spitballs were missing today. He spun around suspiciously. Helga Pataki was there all right, in her usual spot next to Phoebe Hyerdahl, but she seemed too consumed in her own thoughts to be tormenting him that morning, and just stared dreamily out of the window instead. He turned to face front, not wanting her to notice him looking.

Helga _had_ caught Arnold's look in her direction out of the corner of her eye, she knew he was cheking to see if she was taking aim. Any other day she would have been throwing spitballs at his head, but today her mind was on something else. Something that wasn't him. Bob had broke the news to her that morning as she rushed around, desperately looking for something that qualified as lunch while the threat of missing the bus inched ever closer. "So, if this deal goes forward, we'll be having breakfast with the Queen in less than two months time! Won't that be great Olga? Yeah, you always loved England so much, always going on about how much you wanted to go back..." Bob mused to himself.

"It's 'Helga' dad," she replied as she rooted through the cupboards, standing on a chair. "And I've never been to England, I don't know if I'll like it or not." Then it clicked. She dropped the tin of green beans she was holding noisily on the counter. "What?"

"England, Olga, England! Big Bob's Beeper Emporium is going international! Nick reckons we can have stores in most of Europe in six months. We're gonna be rich girl, rich!" Helga slowly climbed off her chair.

"We're moving?" she whispered.

"You bet! Two months from now we'll be living next door to the first Big Bob's England has ever seen! It's gonna be great!" said Bob, and he headed out of the front door and got into his car. Helga listened to him speed away, her mind racing. She didn't want to leave Hillwood, it was her home. She had so much to lose. Phoebe, Arnold... She plunged her hand down her t-shirt and withdrew her familiar locket.

"Oh Arnold! How will I survive half the world away from you? Knowing you're here, with that sweet football head of yours, while I am stranded in the rain and misery of England's green and unpleasant land? How will I go on, thinking of you enjoying your childhood, playing baseball with tall hair boy and carrying on in your oh so optomistic ways while I attend some uniformed school and Miriam sits around drinking Earl Grey smoothies? I won't let him take me Arnold, I swear! I'll stop his evil plans somehow and then everything will be alright!" And she grabbed her books and ran for the bus, where now she sat, contemplating the disaster that her life might become.

-

The class sat at their desks, restless as anything against the sun that shone through the dirty schoolhouse windows. Helga had already ripped a sheet of paper into strips, ready for a days fierce spitballing, but much to her her dismay Arnold had chosen to sit out of her line of fire. Stinky was proving to be an adequate replacement though, and she was already into the full swing of chew, spit, mock, chew, spit, mock. "Knock it off Helga, that really bites," Stinky drawled in the angriest voice he could manage, wiping the beck of his neck with his hand. Helga gave a spiteful laugh and launched another spitball at him, which landed squarely on his cheek.

"Now class," Mr. Simmons started, indicating to them that they should all settle down, "I want you to get started straight away on your science projects. Now I must remind you, you have to wear safety goggles at all times. I'm sure we all remember the incident last week with Eugene's hydrochloric acid, but the nurse informs me he should be getting his sight back any day now. Get into your groups class and off you go!" This statement was followed with a great rabble and much scraping of chairs as people tried to team up with their lab partners, who it seemed had chosen to sit on the opposite side of the class to them. Arnold remained seated while Gerald pushed his chair over to his desk, from which he extracted a lengthy and detailed report.

"I tell you Arnold, this is the first definite A I have ever had," Gerald said confidently as he quickly flipped through the papers.

"We've worked really hard on it Gerald, it's worth an A," said Arnold, equally as confident as Gerald. Science was something that Arnold could both easily grasp and that he really enjoyed. It fascinated him, especially the chemistry element. Their investigation was about oxidisation, something which Mr. Simmons had said was very advanced for fourth graders, but Arnold and Gerald ploughed on regardless. They now had a hefty chunk of writing to show for it which was just a conclusion away from being finished. Mr. Simmons waltzed up to their desk and peered over Arnold's shoulder.

"Oh, nearly finished boys?" he buzzed.

"Oh you bet Mr Simmons, this is going to be the best project ever," Arnold said brightly, not noticing Helga cringe beside him.

Phoebe was chattering away next to Helga about their project. It was a lot more simpler than Arnold and Gerald's, and Helga realised with some bitter resentment that Phoebe had made it that way for Helga's sake. She did admit, however, that she was still a little lost in the basic concepts Phoebe was trying to explain to her, and her mind was starting to wander the way it always did when she was being lectured to. And as usual, it was starting to wander towards Arnold. _Look at him, the fool, so cheery, so bright, so desperately clamouring for Teacher's praise. What a pet, what an absolute suck-up. And yet, how I admire him. So smart, so clever so-_

"Helga?"

Helga was brought back to earth with a nasty bump. It was Phoebe, trying to pull her out of her dream-like state. She was holding a chart in front of her and tapping her pencil on the desk. She looked frustrated.

"Sorry Pheebs, lot on my mind," Helga said absently, finally tearing her eyes away from Arnold. Phoebe, who had been following Helga's line of sight, raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'll tell you at lunch," Helga said quickly, covering her tracks. Phoebe became convinced that it was something else and went back to their project.

-

"...and so Big Bob wants to shoot us all over to Britain so he can begin his rule as the Beeper King in a place where they _actually_ have a monarchy." Helga slumped forward on the lunch table, burying her head in her arms. Phoebe was stunned. Her hand was poised half way to her mouth, the Sushi dangling from the chopsticks rather dangerously. She had been listening to Helga's tale with half an ear; Helga's 'dilemas'usually turned out to be nothing much more than subtle childhood dramas, like the _Monkey Nucleosis_, or her despair about her roadtrip with her parents. But Helga moving away was a different story, Phoebe stood to lose her best friend and ashamedly her first thought was of herself. Helga maybe be slightly bossy and overbearing, but she was still the best friend Phoebe had ever had. She cheered her up when she was down, protected her when she was under threat, and showed her that there was more to her than a pair of fists.

"You can't go away Helga!" Phoebe cried, tears forming behind her spectacles.

"Criminy Pheebs, do you think I really want to?" said Helga, her head snapping up. "But you know Bob, once he's got an idea in his head there's no stopping him. He just blunders on regardless of how I feel," Helga snorted. "That's if he even notices at all." She sighed and slumped her head back down.

"But... but..." Phoebe stammered, the impact of her losing her best friend hitting her with the force of a dodge ball. "It can't be for ages yet, these sorts of deals take forever to plan out." It wasn't much consolation to her, but the idea that Helga might be staying for a while yet gave Phoebe a small strip of hope.

"Nope. Apparently Bob's had this all planned out for ages, he just neglected to tell anyone. Two months he says, two months and we'll be on our way to start our new life overseas," Helga was muttering into the table, so Phoebe had to strain her ears to hear her properly. Phoebe thought for a second, her eyes wide as she searched her brilliant brain trying to find an alternative solution. Finally, she leaned heavily back in her chair, admitting defeat.

"I'm really going to miss you Helga," Phoebe said in a quiet voice. Helga looked up. _She's not going to miss me_, she thought, _because I'm not going to go_. She would find a way around Bob's plan, she would make him see sense and they would stay in Hillwood, happily ever after. But just in case she couldn't, she took Phoebe's hand in hers for a second.

"I'm really gonna miss you too Pheebs," she whispered, and buried her head in her arms once more, but this time it was to hide the tears.


	2. Setting The Trap

**CHAPTER 2 - Setting The Trap**

After lunch, Helga and Phoebe made their way back to their classroom. Phoebe wanted to do a little more work on their science project. Helga smiled at her friend. In the face of adversity Phoebe Hyerdahl would always resort back to the one thing that kept her sane; education. Helga had been more than willing to go with her, she needed to get away from the cheerful voices of the classes of PS118 in the cafeteria. While Phoebe worked, Helga just lay her head on the desk and it wasn't long before the warm classroom and peaceful calm sent her off to sleep.

_Helga was standing on a wooden platform, surrounded by a bustling crowd. They all seemed to be clamouring for her attention, and Helga noticed that the faces belonged to her classmates. Phoebe was standing closest to her, sobbing quietly, twisting a tissue in her hands. Helga called out to her, but she didn't think Phoebe could hear her over the chattering of the crowd. Phoebe started to walk away from her, and she wanted to follow and make sure she was alright. She tried to get down from the platform, but her classmates were blocking her way. She balled her fists the way she always did when she felt trapped, but no one seemed threatened by her today. Instead they started pulling at her, at her dress, at her hair. She screamed at them to stop, they were hurting her. They had mean looks on their faces, and now they were all growling and snarling. Gerald reached up and pulled at her pink bow, unravelling it. He ran away, trailing it above his head and laughing._

_"No!" she screamed at him. "Give it back! I need it!" Again she tried to step down, but found Rhonda and Sheena standing in her way. Suddenly, a fanfare sounded in the distance, and Helga heard what she thought was marching._

_"Make way!" a voice was booming. "Make way for the King!" She looked over and saw Bob riding in a chariot. Miriam was asleep next to him, wearing a small crooked gold crown and cradling a sceptre in her arms, her head bobbing around as they proceeded. The chariot was being pulled by two men in red uniforms. They had big black bearskin hats on, and Helga recognised them as the Queen of England's guard from a documentry she had watched in class once. In front of the chariot was a parade of musicians and majorettes, and heading the march was a weedy looking man reading from a scroll. "Make way for the Beeper King!" he screamed again in a nasal voice._

_The crowd's attention was caught by the parade, and Helga took the opportunity to step down from the platform. The procession came to a halt in front of the crowd, and Bob stood up in his chariot. Helga saw that he was wearing the faux fur lined robe and gold crown that he wore in his commercials. "Where is she?" he yelled grandly. "Where is the Beeper Princess?" The crowd looked around, searching and puzzled._

_"I'm here Dad!" Helga yelled, jumping up and down, trying to push through the mass of bodies. "I'm right here!" She waved to him from the front, a large smile on her face._

_"Ah there she is!" he yelled. "Come up here why don't you?" Helga beamed and went to step forward, but she was roughly pushed to the side by someone rushing past her. They strode up to her Dad and climbed on the chariot exceptionally daintily. Helga frowned, she should have known. It was Olga. "My beautiful Beeper Princess!" he gushed as he placed a silver tiara on her smooth blonde hair. Helga folded her arms and scowled._

_"What about Helga Mr. Pataki?" came a small voice beside Bob. "She's your daughter too."_

_"Eh?" grunted Bob, who was now fastening a purple robe over Olga's shoulders. Helga looked up. It was Arnold._

_"Helga, Mr. Pataki. She should be a Beeper Princess too," Arnold insisted, motioning towards Helga with a wave of his hand. Bob looked up._

_"Oh. The girl," he said gruffly. "Sure, she can come up if she wants. I don't have a tiara for her though." He looked completely indifferent. Arnold smiled at Helga, but she just shook her head._

_"He doesn't want me up there Arnold," she said sadly. Everyone else had disappeared._

_"He's taking you to England, isn't he?" Arnold reminded her sweetly. She gritted her teeth._

_"He has to football head!" she shouted at him. "He's got no choice!" Arnold recoiled. She wanted to apologise but she didn't see the point._

_"Jeez Helga, I was just trying to help!" he yelled at her. Helga was shocked. She'd never seen Arnold get mad before._

_"Oh you're always just trying to help!" she roared, and then immediately covered her mouth. That was a little too below the belt, even for her._

_"You know what Helga? I'm glad you're going! And you know what else Helga? Helga? Helga?"_

"Helga?" Helga's eyes snapped open. "Helga, wake up, the class is coming back in." Phoebe was nudging her elbow gently. Helga lifted her head and yawned widely, while Phoebe went back to her own desk. The class sat down in their seats while Mr. Simmons chalked something on the board. Helga rubbed her eyes and thought back to her dream. It had bought something to her attention that she knew she had been denying. Maybe it was her subconscious' way of making her face reality. Making her finally acknowledge that when she went away to England, Arnold really wouldn't miss her at all. She was going to miss him so much, and he would never ever know. So much passion, so much yearning, so much energy wasted on a boy who barely knew she was there. Something in her mind snapped. How dare he be so blind to her pain? How dare he swan about, not registering that he was breaking her heart? Well, the time for that was over. She was going to make him notice her, once and for all.

-

That afternoon the class got to work on their art projects. It was usual kid's busy work; paint a picture of yourself as a Superhero. Arnold's imagination was kicked into full swing, and the lack of Helga's spitballs on his neck made it that much easier to concentrate. At first he had felt embarassed about painting himself with all these new super powers, but once he had gotten started he just couldn't stop. He had been modest to begin with, just laser eyes and all the other obvious stuff. When he leaned over to glance at Gerald's painting, he noticed that Gerald had drawn himself with a baseball theme. He smiled to himself, that was how his painting should be. About him.

At the end of the class Mr. Simmons asked them to come up to the front and explain their paintings. Rhonda went up first.

"My Superhero self is called Rhonda of Fashion Justice. She seeks out the style-less and mismatched, and, using her amazing new season vision, she makes them over into catwalk superstars. As you can see, she is wearing sleek white pumps with kitten heels and a sleeveless print dress with a retro feel. She has minimalist accesories to really complete the look." As far as Mr. Simmons could see, Rhonda had simply drawn herself in a snazzy new outfit, but he smiled anyway.

"That was very good Rhonda, very well done. You captured your essence perfectly." She smiled and sat back down at her desk. Curly leaned over to her.

"Hey Rhonda, maybe your alter-ego self can make me over some time?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"In your dreams, geek," she said, and pushed him away. He seemed to go giddy at her touch.

"Arnold, you're up next," Mr. Simmons said, reading from a sheet. Arnold got to his feet, his cheeks tinging pink as they always did when he was presenting in front of the class. Helga looked up from her desk, her scowl more prominant than ever, her rage at his oblivious ways not calmed at all while they were painting. He held up his painting, which showed definite promise of an artistic flair.

"Er, right. My Superhero self is called, um, well, Arnold." The class snickered a little and Arnold blushed even deeper. He expected Helga to call out something, but her teeth were gritted together and if she was honest she didn't trust herself to speak. "Uh, anyway, Arnold patrols his neighbourhood sorting out the perpetrators of street crime. He has special vision to see through walls, amazing hearing and super strength. Oh, and he can climb walls," Arnold finished nervously, feeling rather stupid. The class was all looking at him with fixed smiles on their faces, as though they were thinking _nice try Arnold, it's just you in Spandex_.

"Can Arnold fly, er, Arnold?" Mr. Simmons asked, examining the picture.

"Er, no Mr. Simmons," Arnold answered, knowing he could just as well of said yes and Mr. Simmons would be none the wiser.

"So how come he's wearing a cape?" Mr. Simmons had obviously seen one too many _Superman_ films.

"I just thought it suited him," Arnold confessed, and the class laughed, but with him rather than at him.

"Very good Arnold," said Mr. Simmons smiling, and Arnold went and sat back down next to Gerald. They exchanged their best friend handshake. "Helga, your painting please," Mr. Simmons called out.

Helga got to her feet rather sheepishly, holding her paper close to her so nobody could see. When she got to the front she held it up to her chest and didn't turn the paper around. "Right, well, instead of a Superhero I drew a Supervillain. Her name is Helga the Mighty and she beats up kids who dare to laugh at her artwork." Here she growled at them.

"Er, Helga, we can't see your picture," Mr. Simmons said. Helga sighed, and turned the paper over. It was a line drawing of her, as she was, and only her bow had been coloured in. Over the top she had scrawled _Helga the Mighty, _and she had doodled a small game of hangman in the corner. The class looked at her with grins on their faces, they thought this was her just clowning around. She grinned, glad of the assumption they had made. In actual fact she had spent the lesson stock-piling paint and charcoal sticks in her desk. She had scrawled the picture when she found out they were to display their artwork five minutes before the end, and had coloured in the bow while Rhonda and Arnold were speaking. Mr. Simmons frowned at her.

"It, well, it's a very "special" picture Helga, but the assignment was to draw yourself as a _Superhero_, not villain. I don't wish to stiffle your creativity or anything but..."

"Fine, fine, I'll stay in and do it at recess," she muttered with a wave of her hand. Mr. Simmons was stunned, but in actual fact Helga was just plotting further in her plan to get Arnold back. As she went and sat back down, she wondered if she was going too far. Arnold couldn't really be blamed for not seeing her, could he? She had never exactly made it obvious. She looked over at Arnold as she pulled her seat in. He was ogling Lila, and complimenting her on her picture. Little Miss Perfect had drawn herself as some sort of cowgirl, a female _Lone Ranger_. Helga snorted and narrowed her eyes. No, Arnold deserved everything that he got.

-

As she listened to the kids running around outside, Helga made a big show of tracing the outline of her Superhero picture. She acted as though she was totally absorbed in it, while Mr. Simmons sat at his desk supervising her and marking test papers. She didn't mutter a sound of protest at being kept in while the sun shone magically down, and Mr. Simmons thought it safe to leave her for a little while. "Helga, I'm just going to step out and get a cup of coffee from the teacher's lounge. Will you be alright?"

"Mmm," Helga muttered, not looking up from her paper. She waited until she couldn't hear Mr. Simmons' footsteps any longer before crossing the classroom and opening the door.

Helga had never been inside the cafeteria outaide of lunchtime before. It felt somewhat eerie. There were no kids trying to inspire the usual food fights, no tight circle of boys cooking up pranks to play on the girls. It was so quiet that Helga's footsteps sounded like gunshots to her and she felt very exposed as she crept through the maze of tables. She crouched down by the till, listening to the voices of the lunchladies in the kitchen.

"No, leave it Jane, we'll do it tomorrow," one was saying in a wheezy gruff voice.

"Are you sure," said another voice, this one very high-pitched and squeaky. "I mean, all those kids we have to feed tomorrow Angie and none of the plates are clean."

"Oh they will be. Now lets get out of here, I've got a date with a bingo card," and both ladies put on their coats and left through the back entrance to the kitchen. Helga stood up, checking they were really gone. She looked at her watch. She had five minutes until the end of recess, but Simmons was bound to be done drinking his coffee before then. She crept quickly around the till and into the kitchen, a place she had never been before. She felt like she had just crossed into enemy territory.

Her eyes scanned the stainless steel counters and large cupboards for something she could use. She saw the large pile of dishes in the sink, but they had been scraped clean and were no use to her now. Finally her eyes settled on a large silver fridge that was tucked away into the far corner. She made to walk over to it, but the sound of voices made her stop in her tracks. She froze, looking for somewhere to hide.

"I can't belive I forgot my purse," said a voice that Helga recognised as Angie's. She saw the small brown handbag hanging from a coat hook right next to where she was standing. As the rear door creaked open, Helga dived under the counters used for preparing food and gathered herself up into the smallest position possible. She watched as Angie's ruby red heels clicked across the cold blue tiles, and she held in her breath. Angie retrieved her purse and began to walk back to the door, before stopping right in front of Helga.

"Everything alright Angie?" Jane squeaked from outside.

"Yeah, can't remember if I made up the tapioca," she said in a far off voice.

"I did," called Jane, "I put it in the fridge." Angie was satisfied with this answer and left the cafeteria once more. From underneath the shiny steel counter, Helga's eyes twinkled mischeviously.


	3. Destroying Arnold

**CHAPTER 3 - Destroying Arnold**

Helga only just managed to get back to her desk and set everything up before Mr. Simmons entered the classroom. She was short of breath but she tried to hide it and act like she had been drawing the whole time. "How's it going Helga?" he asked, sitting back down behind his desk.

"Really well Mr. Simmons," Helga replied innocently, "but it's not quite finished yet. Is it ok if I complete it some other time?" The bell rang to signal the end of recess.

"Of course Helga, you haven't had the full hour the other children had and I don't want you to rush anything. However, maybe it would be for the best if you stayed behind this afternoon to finish it? You were supposed to do it in class you know." This was Mr. Simmons' way of tiptoe-ing around giving her detention. This way she was alright to leave as soon as she had finished her picture, there was no defined time and no lines to be written, so it couldn't really be deemed 'detention'. "I'll call your parents during last period and tell them." Helga smiled politely and nodded. If the was the least punishment she received today she would count herself as one happy camper.

The rest of the class filed in and Mr. Simmons launched straight into his History lesson by showing them a video tape about the Civil War. The class sat there in the dark, some passing notes to others, some looking bored and resting their chins on their hands and some, like Phoebe, totally engrossed in the film. Helga sat nervously in her seat, biting her lip and trying to hush her conscience.

_It's not fair Helga_, a small voice said.

"Shut up," she muttered. "He has it coming."

_What did he ever do to you?_

"He didn't notice me, that's what."

_Yes he did. He noticed you every time you tripped him in the corridor, he noticed you every time you sprayed him with the drinking fountain, he noticed you every time you called him football head._

"I said shut up!" Helga hissed, causing Curly to turn around in his chair and give her a strange look.

Meanwhile, Arnold and Gerald sat next to each other at their desks, passing notes.

_I'm going to finish the project tonight Gerald, that way I just have to get through tomorrow and the weekend's totally free. Assuming Mr. Simmons doesn't give us any more homework._

_Are you sure man? I mean, it is our project._

_It's only writing up the conclusion, the stuff we know already. It's not like I have to do any thinking._

_You sure Arnold? I don't mind helping._

_It's one paragraph, no problem. You want to go to the arcade this Saturday?_

_You're on. I got a stack of quarters at home as tall as me since Jamie O started buy those $2.75 wrestling magazines. And that includes my hair._

Arnold let out a small laugh at the last note Gerald sent him. Phoebe turned around in her chair, and pressed her finger to her lips. Arnold looked guiltily at her before turning and grinning at Gerald. They exchanged their handshake once again and then turned their attention back to the movie.

Meanwhile, Helga was still having trouble silencing her conscience at her desk. What she had managed to rig up in little more than a minute or so promised to be one of the best pranks PS118 had ever seen. Kids would talk about it long after she was gone, if it went as smoothly as she planned, and she would have a name at this school, and not just the one she shared with her sister. Olga Pataki might be famous, but Helga Pataki was going to be infamous. She would become an urban legend one day, Gerald's replacement would whisper her tale in the halls of the school as though she was nothing more than a ghost. Her name would live forever.

But then, so would Arnold's. As the victim.

The credits rolled up and Mr. Simmons shut off the VCR. There was no going back now, Helga thought to herself. With one final shrug she pushed it from her mind. _What the heck, I'll be gone in two months._

"Alright class! Now, take out your History text books and turn to page seventy-nine," he said, turning to the chalkboard. Helga bit down hard on her lower lip. She was looking at Arnold, her insides a mixture of excitement and dread, her eyes half closed in a vain attempt to look away. Arnold reached down and opened his desk...

Her plan was fairly simple. When Arnold opened his desk, a bowl of tapioca would twang up and hit him in the face, with the aid of a clever launching mechanism that involved a ruler, an elastic band and a stretched out paper clip. Hopefully that would distract Arnold long enough not to notice that the sellotape holding the open ended bags of paint and charcoal dust on the inside of the lid of his desk had given way, and the bags were now slowly leaking their contents all over his school books. It was a simple prank that Helga had once seen on some sitcom, and with a little bit of tweaking she was certain it was going to work.

The first three seconds of the plan went as smooth as clockwork. It was just after that that everything started to go downhill.

The porcelain bowl had shot out of the desk with a little less speed than Helga had hoped for. Arnold's cries alerted everyone in the class and soon everyone was on their feet, watching as the cold dessert hit him square in the chest. Arnold lept up, trying to scrape it from his front before it began seeping down his shirt. In the process Arnold managed to knock his desk with his knees, cause the paint bag to fall with a wet plop in front of Helga and begin seeping it's contents all over the floor. Most of the class was having trouble concealing their laughter at this point, Helga was almost bent double with hysteria.

It was then that the bowl finally slid off of Arnold's chest and fell to the the floor with a loud crash, sending sharp chips of porcelain in every direction. One caught Helga painfully above her left eye, and she winced. Sheena, who had already had a flu shot that morning and wasn't feeling too brilliant, was the first to notice the small trickle of blood running down Helga's forehead. She swooned and fell, and while Helga made to catch her she really had no chance. Sheena reached out to grab the edge of Arnold's desk, presumably to break her fall, but instead she just brought it down with her, scattering all of Arnold's books into the puddle of paint.

Arnold's first instinct was to help Sheena up, but as he lent over the bag of charcoal gave way and exploded all over his face, his clothes and the floor. As he tried to wipe it from his eyes he lost his balance and slipped on the tapioca mess in front of him. On the way down he noticed Helga's charcoal smeared fingers. He should have known this prank was her doing. The whole class' eyes were fixed on them, some of them with looks of shock on their faces as Arnold grabbed the front of Helga's pink dress and dragged her down with him.

Unfortunately he took her somewhat unawares and instead of falling into the sludge puddle like Arnold had intended, she swayed left instead and hit her cheekbone with a sickening crunch on Arnold's chair. For a moment she saw stars, and then panicked as her vision turned red. However, she quickly realised that this was blood from the cut above her eye and she blinked it away quickly. She must have been dazed for longer than she thought, because when she looked up again both Arnold and Sheena were on their feet, Sheena telling Mr. Simmons that she was absolutely fine and Arnold staring down dejectedly at the pile of what had once been his belongings, covered from head to toe in the gooey mess.

Arnold did not offer his hand to Helga and she had to push herself to her feet. Her face was throbbing wildly from where she had hit it, and the cut was starting to sting. Arnold didn't even look at her as he left the room to clean himself up. _At least they'll remember me now_, she thought, staring at Arnold's manically saddened face like everyone else as he left the classroom to go clean himself up. She slumped back in her chair, depressed. No one seemed to notice that her head and cheek were cut, so she took it upon herself to get up and go to the nurse's office to get patched up.

_-_

Sheena's aunt had put a band aid over her forehead and given her an ice pack for her cheek, telling her to get a drink of water from the fountain before she returned to class. Helga was more than willing to do so, she didn't want to return to class yet. Everyone was sure to hate her for what she had done, she had never meant for it to go that far. _At least Arnold would remember her now_, she thought bitterly, and wandered off to the girl's toilets to spend the rest of the day in the sanctuary of the far end cubicle.

As she turned the corner the familiar feeling of running headfirst into Arnold reached her. She fell to the floor harder than usual, and saw that Arnold winced in pain where his wrist struck the cold tiles. For a second she was lost in her usual pleasure, thoughts of Arnold swimming around her brain and making her smile. Then she remembered that Arnold probably detested her at that moment, and her insides knotted into an uncomfortable ball of guilt.

"Watch where you're going," she spat at him, rubbing her exposed elbows. Arnold looked at her.

"How's your head?" he said spitefully, as though he hoped the answer would be bad news. Helga felt like someone had plunged an ice cold blade into her. What had she done?

"It's just fine actually, Arnold-o, no matter how much you try to split it open," she said, her voiced laced with malice.

"Yeah well, I always thought you had a pretty thick skull," Arnold said, getting to his feet, and for the second time that day he left her hanging, not offering to help her up.


	4. Coming Clean

**CHAPTER 4 - Coming Clean**

That evening Arnold had bundled the mess that used to be his school books into a bin liner and walked home in the rain. His wrist twinged as he heaved the heavy sack onto his shoulder, he had sprained it in that collision with Helga. _Helga_, he thought, pushing air through his clenched teeth. If he never saw that girl again it would be too soon. And he knew that tomorrow he had to face her all over again, where she would no doubt be gloating about the amazing prank she had pulled on him, sporting her cuts and bruises as though they were battle scars.

He walked straight up to his room that day, not wanting to face any of the boarders in case he took his anger out on them.

Something twanged in his mind as he thought of the science project he and Gerald had worked so hard on. It was ruined now, he knew there was no way he could salvage it. He felt like crying. So many wasted hours, all that work down the drain. "_Helga_," he growled again as he threw the mass of books on his bed. The bag split, and suddenly his duvet was covered in the sludge. He cursed under his breath as his Grandpa entered the room.

"Now now Arnold, there's no reason to be using language like that," he warned, pulling out Arnold's desk chair and sitting down.

"I'm sorry Grandpa," Arnold said, "but Helga's just got me so frustrated. She just seems to live to to torment me. Before I could kind of handle it, but today she went too far. She completely ruined my science project!"

"The one you and Gerald had been working so hard on?" Grandpa asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, it's so unfair Grandpda. At least it backfired on her, she got beat up pretty bad by a chair," Arnold muttered with a tiny smirk. But suddenly a cold feeling rushed into his every pore. Helga had actually been quite badly hurt by her prank, she obviously hadn't meant things to turn out the way they did. That was no excuse for her to have done it in the first place, but there was no reason for him to take pleasure in her pain. Phil obviously thought so too.

"Oh Arnold, what has become of you?" he wailed. "How can you delight in a poor girl's pain? She's probably sitting over there in her room right now, feeling guilty." Arnold lowered his head. "And if she's not then I guess it's fine for you to smirk away." Phil got to his feet. "Right, I have to go and try to coax your Grandma down from the roof. I'll bring your dinner up later for you." Phil left Arnold to his thoughts, and while the rage in Arnold was still very prominent, it had calmed down a fair amount.

As Arnold climbed into his makeshift bed on his fold out sofa that night, he decided to have it out with Helga the next day. Once and for all.

-

Helga had arrived at the Pataki household very low that evening. She had slumped down in front of the television without so much as a grunt form her father, but that didn't bother her much. She wanted to be left alone. 'The Wheel' blared from the set, and Helga fixed her eyes on it and thought about Arnold. She now knew it would have been better to have faded from Arnold's memory than to be lodged in it forever as the girl who ruined his life. She sighed heavily, and tried not to cry. "Dinner's ready!" Miriam called from the kitchen in her usual sleepy fashion.

"About time Miriam," said Bob, getting to his feet, "I'm starving!" Helga found she couldn't even push herself up from her seat. "Come on Olga, dinner," he grunted at her, and reluctantly, she trudged to the table.

Helga spooned a large mound of mashed potato onto her plate with a dull plop. She poked at it with her fork for a while, but she found she couldn't take a single bite. She just played with it, hating it for reminding her so much of tapioca pudding. "Not eating girl?" came her father's gruff voice. Helga looked up, an immediately wished she hadn't. "Criminy girl, what happened to your face? Did you get in another fight at school?"

"No Dad I-" she began, but her father cut her off.

"If we get one more report from that school about you fighting Helga, I'm going to have to take drastic action. I'm sick of coming home to phone calls from that Simmons guy. 'Helga was involved in an incident... Helga has to go to therapy because of such and such...' I tell you I'm tired of it Helga!" It was funny how he always seemed to be able to remember her name when he was telling her off.

"I wasn't fighting Dad!" Helga yelled. "I fell from my chair in school today, ok?" and she stormed upstairs to her room.

"You come back here and finish your dinner!" Big Bob Pataki hollered.

"I'm not hungry!" she screamed, and slammed her door. She threw herself face down onto her bed, wanting to cry but the tears wouldn't come. For the first time it occured to her that today not only had she severely damaged her realtionship with Arnold, but she had also gotten into serious trouble at school. Mr. Simmons had told her that he would deal with it tomorrow, but for now he had to make sure everyone involved was alright and that the mess got cleaned up quickly before anyone else had an accident. She groaned and knew she would be beating herself up for this for the rest of her life. Arnold hated her, Bob was going to get another phone call from Simmons, she was going to be dragged off to England and everybody she left behind would despise her. _At least I can get a fresh start in England_, Helga thought, _I just wish I wasn't so fond of being here._

No, she was going to make it better. She was going to tell them why she had acted the way she did, and she was going to say sorry. She was going to set things right. Once and for all.

-

When Helga had woken up the next morning she had contemplated not tying her hair up, hanging some of it in front of her bruise to cover it up. But no, she didn't want to. Everyone knew it was there and how she had gotten it. She had nothing to hide. She brushed up her bunches, tied in her bow, put her shoes on the wrong feet and didn't eat any breakfast. By the time she left the house she was so far away in her mind that she missed her front steps and managed to skin her knees.

On the way to the bus stop, she bumped into none other than Arnold. In a way she was glad, she wanted to explain to him before she explained to everyone else, but in another, she was horrified, she hadn't been prepared at all. He looked at her, the same look on his face he had worn yesterday. She cringed inside, she had bought out the worst in him the day before. "Arnold!" she exclaimed, suprised.

"Oh, hey Helga," Arnold said quietly, as though it was only because he felt he should.

"Look, Arnold, I'm sorry," she began straight away, before he could stop her. She flashed him a small hopeful smile, but his expression didn't change.

"That's not good enough this time Helga," he said, and he walked away from her. She wanted to call out to him, to stop him, but the words got lost in her throat. She felt like dying. Even when she had tried to be civil and call a truce, Arnold still hadn't forgiven her. She wanted to make it up to him somehow, and at the same time she wanted to beat his stupid face in. This was Helga at her best and it still wasn't good enough for him. She folded her arms huffily and waited at the bus stop, tapping her foot impatiently and not letting her mind rest for a second. The bus pulled up and Helga stomped noisily aboard, her face so dark that no one dared even look at her. This was disappointing for many of them however. Rhonda, in particular, had been looking forward to giving Helga a piece of her mind, but upon seeing her that morning she bacame far too worried about the fate of her one of a kind, tailor made platform Caprini boots to say a word.

Helga sat herself down heavily next to Phoebe, just as she did every morning. She was shocked to note that Phoebe didn't greet her with her usually cheery Japanese. Helga knew what she was thinking, she thought Helga had gone too far just like everyone else. She knew that Phoebe had been more worried about someone getting hurt than anything else. Helga snorted. No one seemed to have noticed that the person who had suffered the most from yesterday's prank had been her. Her cheek had swollen up to a nice purple bruise with a deep ret cut in the middle, she still had the band aid over her eyebrow and she couldn't be certain, but it felt like she had twisted her knee when Arnold had pulled her to the ground.

_And that was another thing!_ she thought, her temper suddenly exploding in her mind. Arnold had spitefully pulled her to the ground and injured her quite badly. It hadn't been a last act to try and stop himself fallen, that was obvious. He had taken Helga so unawares that there would have been no way she could have held him up. She bit her lip and counted to twenty, there was no way she was going to take this out on Pheebs.

"Look, Phoebe, I never meant for it to turn out the way it did," she said honestly. Phoebe turned to face her, and a small smile crept across her lips. She obviously didn't want to spend her last two months being mad at Helga, it was obviously tearing her up a great deal inside. "I just wanted to go out with a bang, you know? Just wanted to make sure that everyone remembered me for something else other than being 'Olga Pataki's sister'. Guess that wasn't really the best way to go about it."

"I guess not," said Phoebe, grinning widely. "But you know, you really are going to have to apologise to Arnold and Gerald for ruining their science project," she said sweetly. Helga sat up in her seat. That had been news to her.

"I ruined their science project?" she repeated back in a high pitched tone. Phoebe just nodded slightly; she thought Helga already knew that. "Oh man, no wonder he was so off with me earlier." Phoebe looked inquisitvely at her, and Helga explained her meeting with Arnold that morning. She clapped her hand to her forehead, striking the band aid and cursing. "I need to make it up to the little football headed idiot somehow," she said thoughtfully and Phobe, while agreeing, had absolutely no ideas.

-

At the back of the bus, Gerald was doing everything in his power to stop Arnold getting to his feet to have a showdown with Helga. "I mean, can you believe that Gerald! She just says 'sorry', as if that makes it all better!" he raged.

"Well, 'sorry' is quite an accomplishment for Helga G. Pataki," Gerald said, grinning slightly.

"Well it shouldn't be! Just because she's so used to being a right pain doesn't mean that she can brush away things like this with a forced apology! It shouldn't be that hard for her to admit she's wrong! I tell you Gerald, that girl is going to make my life a misery, I just know it! God, sometimes I really hate her!"

"Only sometimes?" Gerald muttered quietly so Arnold couldn't hear.

-

Helga wisely chose to sit at the back of the class that day. That way anyone who chose to spend the lesson boring their eyes into Helga's skull would have to do it with their backs to Mr. Simmons, something he was sure to notice. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. Her head was beginning to throb, all steming from the stinging sensation that was coming from the cut above her eye. She sighed deeply and wished the ground would swallow her whole. "Are you ok Helga?" someone whispered to her. It was Gerald. She sat up straight in her seat, her senses jolted out of their sockets.

"Er, yeah, head hurts," she muttered. "Oh, and sorry about your project," she added as an afterthought. Gerald smirked.

"You're a mean girl Helga, a mean girl." Helga shook her head, totally confused. One minute he was concerened about her, the next he was insulting her. "It's gonna take a big gesture to get yourself out of this one." He was, of course, right, but Helga couldn't see any real reson for him to be saying anything to her at all. "It's not like I want to speak to you at all," Gerald said, reading her mind, "but I've never seen Arnold like this." _Ah_, thought Helga, _it's all making sense now_. "Usually he'd be all upbeat and forgiving, but I swear he was going crazy on the bus this morning, yelling about how he would never forgive you, how much he hated you. If you can do that to a kid like Arnold I mean, wow girl, you must be pretty bad, but you've got to make it right again." He turned to face the front of the class without giving Helga another look.

Helga felt completely miserable. Nothing would make it better, nothing. Mr. Simmons got up from his desk and cleared his throat quietly.

"Now today I want you to write up a summery of the video on the Civil War we watched yesterday. Everyone get your history books out. Oh, and Helga?" Her head snapped up. "I want to see you after class please." Helga's stomach knotted. She could feel the class' pleasure that she was going to be told off and sent to the Principal's office for what she had done, and she squirmed a little in her chair. Phoebe gave her a small smile, but Helga could tell she thought it was hopeless. Helga got to her feet. "No Helga, after class I said. Right now I want you to complete your history assignment." All eyes were on Helga.

"I know, Mr. Simmons, I just had something I wanted to say to the class," she said, not sure where she was going with it and feeling the epitome of cheese. Mr. Simmons nodded and Helga stepped up in front of the blackboard. She took a deep breath.

"Ok, I know what I did yesterday was fairly... bad. I didn't mean for it to turn out the way it did-"

"So why'd ya do it in the first place Helga?" Stinky called out. Helga scowled at him.

"I just wanted you to remember me when I was gone," she said faintly, aware that it made her sound as though she was dying. The class gasped as one. "I'm moving away soon."

"Where are you going Helga?" Sheena asked.

"England," she replied offhandedly. "Bob's continuing his plans for world domination. But still, I want to say sorry for yesterday, mostly to Arnold and Gerald, 'cause I ruined their project. Oh, and to Sheena, 'cause my bleeding made her faint." She finshed her little speech and an awkward silence followed. She rubbed her elbow with her hand and shrugged at Mr. Simmons, who took it as his cue to pick up the slack.

"Oh, that's such a shame Helga, we'll miss you very much. But that was very noble of you to apologise like that. Um, please take your seat. Get to work everyone." Helga sat down, and wasn't really suprised to find that on the whole, the class was fairly indifferent upon hearing her news. There were the odd spiteful few who said they couldn't wait to see the back of her, probably still sore from yesterday, ("Good riddance to bad rubbish," Rhonda commented), but some of them looked sad, like Phoebe and suprisingly Lila. Helga sat back down and found that she felt a lot better. Gerald gave her a look that said he forgave her, but when she turned around to look at Arnold she couldn't see his face.


	5. The Bet

**CHAPTER 5 - The Bet**

At lunch time Helga found that she had quite a crowd gathering around her. It reminded her very strongly of her dream; she expected Big Bob to come rolling up any second. Everyone seemed to have accepted her apology and now they were eager to know about her move to England. "I sure am gonna miss ya Helga," Stinky said. He still had fond memories of the time he had pretended to be her boyfriend.

"You know, I hear the London fashion scene is getting a lot of attention _this_ season," Rhonda gushed. "You might actually be fashionable for a while Helga." Rhonda obviously thought she was giving her a compliment, but Helga met this comment with her trademark scowl. "What?" Rhonda exclaimed, genuinely bemused. Helga noticed Arnold wasnt in the crowd.

Eventually her classmates disbanded, having had her news settle into them and then having come to the conclusion that it wasn't that big a deal. Helga and Phoebe finally sat down to lunch, both a little dispondant. "Only two months left Pheebs, only two months until everyone forgets my name." Helga felt terrible.

"I won't forget it Helga, I'll write you all the time," Phoebe said defiantly, but Helga hadn't meant everyone. She had meant _Arnold_.

"Aw I know Pheebs, and I'm definitely gonna write you back, just wish I wasn't gonna be so easily erased, you know?" Phoebe did know. She often felt like she was disappearing, but sometimes her academic brilliance or something else would get her noticed and people would remember she was there again. It may have been a strange arrangement, but it suited Phoebe right down to the ground. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to rip up her roots and start all over again. Suddenly a loud crash drew their attention to the other side of the cafeteria.

"No way Rhonda, I was sitting here first," Harold was yelling. Beside him Rhonda was looking stunned as gooey brown gravy ran slowly down the front of her sweater and dripped onto her shoes.

"Harold," she said in a smooth, dangerous voice, "you are going to be in so much trouble when my father sees what you've done to my sweater."

"Well you shouldn't have got in my way, it was my table!" Harold protested. "Tell her Sid!" Sid looked taken aback, as though not expecting to be drawn into the argument.

"Er, well, um," Sid flapped. "Yeah, uh, it was, um, Harold's table Rhonda," he said nervously. Rhonda gasped.

"Nadine!" she yelled at her best friend. "Will you back me up here? Tell these two morons it's _our_ table!"

"Nu uh!" Harold exclaimed. "Stinky, you saw what happened..." The argument continued along this vein for some time until, inevitabley...

"Phoebe!"

"Y-yes, Rhonda?" Phoebe squeaked in a tiny voice.

"It was our table, right?" Rhonda barked.

"Um, well, to be perfectly honest Rhonda I didn't-"

"It was our table!"

"I d-didn't see y-you sitting there-"

"Are you calling me a liar?" Rhonda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no Rhonda, I only meant that I-I never witnessed-"

"Because if you are calling me a liar Phoebe Hyerdahl, you'll find that Harold isn't the only one here who'll be getting in trouble with-" but now it was Rhonda's turn to get cut off.

"That's it Princess, you shut your trap right now! Phoebe didn't do anything." Helga had gotten to her feet.

"Nobody asked you Helga," Rhonda said dismissively. Helga growled. "So back me up here Phoebe." Phoebe didn't know what to do. She had been too tied up in the conversation with Helga to see what happened, but she didn't want Rhonda to be angry with her. But then, she didn't want Harold to be angry with her either.

"I, er..." she squeaked. Rhonda shot her a filthy look and then turned back around to face Nadine. "No wonder everyone ignores her," she said quietly, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. Phoebe looked on the verge of tears.

"Apologise!" Helga bellowed, grabbing Rhonda by her gravy-soaked shirt and slamming her up against the wall. Rhonda blinked.

"Unhand me, you freak!" she screamed, clearly not frightened of Helga at all. Helga raised her fist, trying to intimidate her. At that moment, the cafeteria door swung open and Arnold entered. When he noticed the scene before him he felt obligated to step in.

"Helga, let go of Rhonda before you get in trouble," he urged.

"Oh she's already in trouble," Rhonda spat as Helga let her go. Helga rounded on Arnold, wiping her dirty hands on her dress.

"Not that it's any of your business, football head, but Rhondaloid here was starting on Pheebs. I was just stepping in and righting a wrong. You know, that thing _you_ always do."

"Really?" said Arnold, raising an eyebrow and looking totally disbelieving.

"She was!" Helga said indignantly. "Pheebs, tell-" but she stopped when she had a familiar sense of deja vu.

"Are you going to be like this in England too?" Arnold inquired, looking angry. His rage toward Helga hadn't been completely sated by her public apology, and she only had to put one toe over the line to set him to boiling point again. Helga's mouth hung open.

"Er, I, well," she began.

"You're always going to be the same old Helga G. Pataki, the girl who's had to name her fists, she uses them so much! Always scowling and mean, not caring about anyone else but yourself! I feel sorry for England Helga, I really do." The crowd cheered as Arnold finished his speech. Helga wanted to defend herself, but she didn't know where to begin. Thankfully for her, Phoebe hadn't forgotten what Helga had just done for her.

"That's not really true Arnold," she said nervously and deep down feeling like a bit of a liar, "Helga can be very nice at times. Like just then, when she was defending me against-" Rhonda shot her a look, "er, when she was defending me."

"Well, I've never seen it," Sid snorted.

"Me either," Harold said. Suddenly the whole class were swapping stories of all the times Helga had been mean to them. Helga knew that she had a nice side somewhere amongst her ways, the only problem was that she didn't show it to many people. But Arnold had seen it, she knew he had, so why was he behaving like this?_ Because you went too far, _a little voice said in the back of her head. She sighed.

"I bet Helga couldn't be nice if her life depended on it," Eugene said, painfully remembering the last wedgie Helga had given him.

"Watch it, jinx," Helga snarled, raising her fist.

"Point proven," Gerald said in his cool voice. "But you know what Eugene, I think you just might be on to something." Eugene looked startled, he'd never been on the ball in his life.

"I am?"

"Helga G. Pataki, do you accept Eugene Horrowitz's bet? Can you be nice for the remainder of your time in Hillwood?"

"_What_?" she said, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"Do you accept the bet? Being nice for the next two months? That means no bullying, no pushing, no shoving, no name calling," Gerald's eyes flicked to Arnold, "no scowling, no shouting and added to that you must also be helpful, kind and curteous to your fellow students. Will you accept the challenge?" Gerald was standing on a chair now, sweeping his arms around the crowd like some kind of ring master. Helga looked at Arnold, who despite looking a lot more relaxed didn't seem to have noticed that his left hand was still curled into a fist.

"If I do, what happens if I lose?" she asked suspiciously.

"Gravy dunked at your last supper," Rhonda said immediately, pointing at her shirt. "And then a swirly to clean you off." Her eyes glinted with mischeviousness, she obviously didn't think Helga could do it. Helga's temper flared.

"And if I win?" she said determindly. The class thought about it.

"A place on the PS118 wall of fame," Sid said finally. The class gasped.

"The what?" Sheena asked, looking at Curly and Eugene who just shrugged.

"The PS118 wall of fame, the place where some of the students who leave Hillwood before graduation are commemerated for all eternity, provided they do something of noteable value," Sid said mysteriously. "I can't believe you've never seen it, it's the one outside the boy's toilets. Tell them the story Gerald." Gerald straightened himself up on his chair. He cleared his throat.

"A long time ago, in these very halls, there was a kid named Jimmy K. Jimmy K was a quiet kid, never spoke out of turn, never raised his hand in class, a real wallflower. One day he comes home from school and his Mom tells him they're moving to Ohio. Jimmy K snapped. He couldn't face life without his sidekick, Little Red. Little Red was one of the strangest kids PS118 ever saw, second only to Curly. He used to collect gum from under the tables," Helga shifted uncomfortably, but no one seemed to notice, "cut his own trademark ginger hair into patches and ate peanut butter and paste sandwiches for lunch. When Little Red found out Jimmy K was leaving, he lost it. Absolutely went crazy. First, he went on a crayon rampage, drawing on the walls, the tables, everything. Then he broke into the Principal's office and played Dino Spumoni over the intercom for three hours. And finally, he flooded the boy's toilets next to the sixth grade classroom.

"When the time came for someone to take the rap, Little Red was ready to take his lumps. But at the last minute Jimmy K stepped in and took the heat for the whole thing. He figured that seeing as he was going away, he couldn't get in too much trouble. Little Red created the PS118 wall of fame on the day that Jimmy K left, and from then on every kid who did something noble, or huge, or just plain stupid before they left has been commemerated on that wall. Stewie Brown, who stole his teacher's wig, Laura Jenkins, who beat up the sixth grade bully trying to steal her best friend's lunch money, and of course, Binky Maloy, responsible for the World War Three Hoax of '86. To get on the wall is a great honour, and Helga, we're offering it to you."

Helga was completely taken with the idea. She would be remembered forever, and her legend would be passed down through the generations. _But for being nice_? Not much of an historical moment. It was, she decided eventually, better than nothing.

"You're on, Tall Hair Boy." Everyone frowned at her. She blushed. "Starting Monday, of course."


	6. Helga's First Nice Act

A/N: I know these chapters are coming out rather quickly, but I have no job, too much caffine and a nasty attack of insomnia going on. I also know it's a little strange to be dedicating a story six chapters in, but this story is for **King Cheetah**, because no matter how much I try to read his stories, someone always takes me away before I'm finished! This is the next best thing until he gets the reviews he deserves! Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone. -Sky.

**CHAPTER 6 - ****Helga's First Nice Act**

The next morning Arnold was sitting at his breakfast table with all the other boarders, discussing his science project with his Grandpa. "Mr. Simmons says we can have an extension on ours, because Helga ruined the old one. Thankfully I've got a lot of the old files saved on my computer so it shouldn't be too much work. Gerald's gonna come over tomorrow so we can get started."

"Ah, well you see Arnold it all worked out for the best," his Grandpa said through a mouthful of cornflakes.

"And in two months Helga won't be around to do this kind of thing to me anymore, seeing as she's going to live in England," Arnold said, grinning.

"Aw, that's a shame short man, are you going to miss her?" his Grandpa said absent-mindedly, scanning the back of the cereal box.

"No way Grandpa," Arnold said, getting to his feet. "I'll be glad to see the back of her."

"Arnold that's a terrible thing to say," Oskar cut in. "Her father owns his own business and has a lot of money."

"That doesn't make her a nice person Mr. Kokoshka," Arnold said matter-of-factly, picking up his plate and walking toward the kitchen.

"Hey Arnold," Ernie said cheerfully, "you want to come down to the site today? I'm blowing stuff up."

"I can't Mr. Potts, I really need to get started on the project today," Arnold said, disappearing through the door. As he was placing his dishes into the sink he heard the phone ring in the hall.

"Arnold," he heard his Grandpa call, "it's for you." Arnold wiped his hands and walked into the hall, taking the receiver from his Grandpa.

"Hello?"

"Hey Arnold," Gerald muttered, not sounding his usual cheery self.

"You're not coming tomorrow are you?" Arnold muttered.

"Someone already tell you?"

"No, that's just my luck. Hang on a second, tell me what?"

"Arnold, Jamie O was in an accident. He crashed his car. The doctors say he's gonna be alright, but his leg's been really beat up. I have to go see him in hospital. I'm sorry man," Gerald said in a quiet voice.

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'm just glad Jamie O's ok. I'll catch you some other time. Bye Gerald."

"Bye Arnold." Arnold replaced his receiver and wandered up to his room. He thought it better to get started on the project by himself sooner rather than later, now he had no one to help him out. He didn't know how long Jamie O was likely to be in hospital but he knew that Gerald would be pretty tied up for the duration. He shifted his papers around on his desk looking for a place to start but he just wasn't in the mood. His thoughts were with Gerald and his family. It must have been horrible to get that phone call, telling them that Jamie O had been in an accident. He flopped down on his bed and stared up through his ceiling. It was such a beautiful day. Untactfully so. The clouds floated gently by, the sun shone down on the city, and Arnold felt the need to get out of his house. Maybe he would run into Stinky or Sid if he wandered around the neighbourhood a little.

He left the boarding house and began the walk to Gerald Field. On the way he passed Mr. Green's butchers and was tempted to go inside, but he saw Mr. Green fighting a losing battle with a string of pork sausages and decided against it. He crossed over the street, tripping on the curb as he went. "Oh Arnold, could you give me a hand please?" Arnold looked up. Mrs. Vitello was hanging half out of her flower shop looking very flustered.

"Sure thing Mrs. Vitello," Arnold answered at once. He had trouble struggling around her as she didn't seem willing to budge out of the doorway, but once he had forced his way into the shop he soon found out why.

A large display case of Venus Fly Traps had toppled and landed square on Mrs. Vitello, and she was now doing everything in her power to stop them crashing to the ground. Her dress was covered in soil and a terracotta pot had broken at her feet. She looked somewhat in pain as Arnold rushed forward to push the shelves back up.

"I knew it was a mistake to get these things in," she lamented, wiping her shoulders off. "I thought I'd try and branch into other areas, you know, appeal to a wider market, but they've been nothing but trouble since they arrived. If you hadn't have shown up I'm willing to bet they would have dissolved me in the next few hours." Arnold let out a small chuckle, but one look at her and he realised Mrs. Vitello was serious.

"Um, is there anything else?" he asked politely.

"Oh, no Arnold, thank you very much young man." Arnold nodded and headed out of the shop, listening to the bell tinkle over his head. "Oh wait!" Mrs. Vitello screamed dramatically. Arnold froze, and then spun quickly around, wondering what other accident would meet his eyes. "I just finished these for your grandmother," she said, holding up a large purple and red flower arrangement, "drop them off to her will you?" Arnold smiled, his heart still beating rapidly, took the flowers and left the shop.

"Grandma!" he called as he entered the Sunset Arms. "I have your flowers!" His Grandma swept majestically out of the dining room, wearing an Elizabethan ensemble.

"Aw Arnold you bought me flowers," she said sweetly, taking them from him.

"No, Mrs. V-"

"And I thought you'd forgotten my birthday," she gushed, admiring them. She plucked a red rose from the centre and nestled it under Arnold's cap. "Lovely!" she exclaimed.

"Grandma, it's not your birthday," he said, half closing his eyes.

"The Queen has two birthdays!" she cried, and went into the kitchen to put the flowers into a vase. Arnold shook his head and left the boarding house once more, stepping into the glorious sunshine, the brief encounter with his Grandma making him feel the best he had in days. Smiling he treked back to Gerald field, hoping that there would be a game already underway when he arrived.

As he turned the corner, he didn't hear the usual noise that came from the common baseball games. He did, however, hear a slow, rhythmical thudding. As he walked into the lot he discovered the source. Helga was sitting against one of the makeshift benches, throwing a tennis ball at the wall and catching it when it returned to her. Arnold's first instinct was to turn around, but he was in such a good mood he decided it would be best to try and make peace with Helga. He didn't like the way he had been feeling towards her of late, he knew she wasn't a bad person deep down and she was leaving.

"Hey Helga," he said, sitting down next to her.

"Afternoon, football head," she said, immediately regretting it.

"Thought you were supposed to be being nice," he said slyly.

"Not til Monday Arnold-o," she said triumphantly. "Nice headgear." Arnold put his hand to his head and pulled out the rose that was still lodged in his hair.

"Pour vous," he said in a stupid voice, handing it to her. For a moment she regarded it with contempt, but then much to Arnold's suprise she tucked it behind her ear. Then she sighed and looked around widly.

"Where_ is _everyone?" she asked out loud.

"Gerald's gone to hospital to visit his brother but I don't know about anyone else," he replied, catching the tennis ball as Helga bounced it in his direction. A silence passed between them, broken only by the sound of the tennis ball. "You really gonna do this 'nice' thing then?" Arnold said finally. Helga threw Arnold a sideways glance, but didn't say anything. Her mind was still racing with the fact that he was speaking to her at all. He took a deep breath. "I know I should be mad at you, I mean really mad, and I sort of am, but you're going soon and I don't want to be mad at you when you leave." he said quickly. Helga grinned slyly.

"You're such a pushover," she said. Arnold's eye's narrowed. "But I really am sorry you know," she amended.

"I know," he said quietly, not looking up.

For the next hour or so the two nine year olds sat side by side, not saying a word, just passing that tennis ball between them. Helga could feel her heart knotting ever tighter with every second that passed. This was what being a kid was all about. Just being happy where you are with who you're with. The idea that she would be leaving filled her once more and she had to turn away to hide her face in her hands, making the first miscatch of the day.

"Helga, what's wrong?" Arnold answered. Helga bit her lip and turned to face him. Arnold was shocked. He hadn't realised it, but he had never seen Helga cry before. It was devestating.

"There's nothing wrong with me football head!" she shouted angrily, grabbing the front of his shirt. The tears were coming thick and fast, her cheeks were flushed and hot. Arnold cringed.

"Whoa, sorry Helga," he muttered. She let go of him and slumped back against the bench, staring ahead and looking straight through everything.

"I'm sorry," she said in barely a whisper. "I'm just so scared of going Arnold." Arnold looked at Helga, feeling puzzled. Was she opening up to him? He had never seen her let down her defences so easily before, not once. Maybe she didn't think it mattered, seeing as she was leaving. "I don't want to go to England Arnold, I want to stay here with Pheebs and everyone and just keep going the way I am. I don't want to go..." she trailed off, her choked sobs now making it too difficult for her to talk. Arnold didn't know what to say or whether he should hug her or anything. Instead he settled with just putting his hand on her shoulder.

Helga's sobs stopped at once. She swivelled her head and looked down at Arnold's hand, frowning at it. Arnold wanted to take it away but it felt as though someone had superglued it there. She smirked in the direction of his knuckles.

"What's so funny?" he asked. She put her hand on top of his for a second, before pushing it away.

"I'll get back to you with that," she answered, not too sure herself. "So the bet thing?" she continued, deliberately changing the subject."Yep, totally going through with it. Starting Monday you are going to see the new and improved Helga G. Pataki. All nice, all the time Hair Boy."

"Why?"

She sighed and looked at him. "I need to be remembered." Arnold just nodded and looked at his hands. He understood that, but he would be remembered enough. He had done so much for the neighbourhood, maybe quietly in the background but loud enough so that everyone knew his name. Helga, on the other hand, had never been credited for the events with FTI, even though without her the boarding house would surely have been levelled by now.

"But _nice_?" he repeated, not able to hide the smirk in his voice. She scowled at him.

"You don't think I can do it?" she asked, getting to her feet."Oh, I'm gonna show you just how nice I can be," she said menacingly, and she disappeared around the corner. Arnold sighed at her retreating back.

"Oh, I think you can do it," he said to himself as he got to his feet, "I'm just not sure you should."

-

Helga broke into a run the moment she was certain Arnold couldn't see her anymore. She had a mission in her mind. She thudded up the steps of the boarding house and pounded fiercely on the door. "Alright, alright, I'm coming, keep your hair on," Phil's tired voice sounded from inside. He pulled the door open and looked at the small panting girl on his stoop. "Yes?" he asked suspiciously.

"I need," she panted, "to..pick up something... of Arnold's... quickly." And before he could stop she barged straight past him and rushed up the boarding house stairs. Helga pulled the cord to Arnold's room and the stairs unfolded before her. Climbing them quickly, she came to a dead stop when she found herself in his room. Her breath fell short as she looked about his tidy surroundings. This wasn't the first time she had been in Arnold's room, far from it, but every time it made her feel lighter than air. The pillow where he lay his beautiful football shaped head at night, the desk where he sat and put his marvellous brain waves onto paper, the spot where she had once watched him remove his- No, there was no time for that.

Her eyes scanned the room desperately. Finally she found what she was looking for, and rushed over to his litter bin. After a few seconds of rummaging she found what she wanted and bundling it in her arms she ran out of the boarding house as fast as her legs would carry her.

-

Arnold finally wandered into the boarding house just as the sun was setting. He walked into the living room where all the boarders were gathered around the television watching the video tape of the time they were on _Fighting Families_. "Where ya been Short Man?" his Grandpa asked.

"Just around," Arnold answered. He had spent most of the day wandering about on his own after the meeting with Helga. Arnold had noticed that sometimes just talking to Helga for five mintues gave him enough to think about for several days.

"Oh, your little friend with the pink bow and the one eyebrow popped round earlier. Said she had to pick something up from your room," his Grandpa said, pulling Arnold from his thoughts. "She was up there before I could stop her. Was a couple of hours ago actually."

"Helga!" he exclaimed, "In my room?" His mind raced through the many possiblilties of destruction that Helga may have caused. He rushed up to his room and dashed in, bracing himself for the worst. He was pleasantly suprised when he opened his eyes, there was not a single thing out of place. He searched through his desk to see if anything was missing, but everything was just as he left it. He looked in his closet, but everything was still there. With one final panic, he leapt onto his bed and took a shoebox down from the top of his bookshelf. He ripped the lid off and looked inside. The Little Pink Book was still there, the single, red shoe remained, his father's journal, a photograph of Lila, it was all still there. As far as Arnold could tell, nothing had been taken.

He sat himself down on his bed and something made a crunching sound under his legs. He looked down at his duvet and saw a big brown envelope that was half covered by his butt. He picked it up, looking at it strangely. It was quite thick and Arnold was certain it wasn't his. It had nothing written on it and it wasn't sealed, so he figured it would be alright to look inside. He pulled out a bundle of clean white sheets, all neatly printed with text and graphs and charts and tables. It was his and Gerald's science project, in it's perfect entirety, minus the conclusion he still hadn't written. He searched through the envelope for a note or a letter or anything, but it was empty.

He looked over to his waste paper basket and raised his eyebrow. Tucking the report back into it's envelope he looked out of his window at the orange sky.

"This is going to be a disaster," he said, shaking his head, but the smile didn't fade from his lips.


	7. The Worst Monday

**Chapter 7 - The Worst Monday**

Helga sat on the bus to school on Monday morning feeling cold dread swirl around her insides. She was desperate to catch up with Arnold before he spoke to anyone, and kept her eyes fixed on the front of the bus waiting for him to board. She had kept herself awake until the small hours the previous night, going over and over what she was doing, regretting ever agreeing to this stupid bet.

She was worried that if she was too nice to a particular football headed someone, everyone would be sure to figure out her deepest, darkest secret. She would be mocked, taunted and basically laughed out of town for harbouring these feelings for a boy she claimed to hate. And yet, last night, she had done a completely selfless act for him. She had righted the wrong she had so willfully commited, and now he was sure to be spreading the gospel of her kindness far and wide.

That wouldn't be so bad, if she just thought she had the capacity to be nice to all the other kids. But the truth was she didn't think she could do it. She had spent so long being the bully, getting her own way and pushing people around that she didn't think she could just turn around and be all sunshine and rainbows. She had found in her past that being nice to Arnold was something as natural as oxygen once she got started, whether he knew about it or not, but she knew that was only because of her desire for him. The other kids she did not feel so strongly about, in fact some of them she truly did hate sometimes, and those were the ones who would pick up on her nice ways toward Arnold.

At first she didn't think it would be so bad for everyone to know how she felt about Arnold. Sure, she would be a figure of fun for the few months she had left in Hillwood, but then she would be jetting off to England and she would never have to worry about it again. But that was no good as she knew the most part of her was still dedicated to not going at all, and should that come to pass with everyone knowing her secret... well, it didn't bear thinking about.

So she decided to ask Arnold to not mention her little good deed to anyone, and gloss over it as not wanting to seem _too goody-goody_. But the whole journey she had worried about Arnold's Sunday. Had he already phoned Gerald and told him what had happened? Admitedly, Gerald would be a little tied up visiting his brother but that didn't mean he wouldn't be able to take a five minute phone call.

The bus came to a halt outside Arnold's stop. Both he and Gerald climbed aboard and Helga sat up straight in her seat, straining to see. He sauntered onto the bus and walked past her, but she grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Hey, foo-" Gerald gave her a look. The bet was officially in motion. "I mean, er, Arnold, can I talk to you for a second?" Arnold looked at Gerald and then sat down beside her. Gerald walked to the back of the bus and sat next to Phoebe, who was still sore about being told to sit somewhere else by her best friend. She didn't mention this to Gerald however, she still wanted Helga to win the bet and she was sure she had her reasons.

"What's up Helga?" Arnold said brightly. He was still feeling very touched from her actions on Saturday night.

"Look, I'm just gonna come out with it. I don't want you telling anyone that I did... that for you.I mean, even though this stupid bet still needs me to be nice, I've got a whole reputation to uphold. So if you could just, well, lie for me, that'd be just peachy." Her voice came out as a scathing whisper, but Arnold wasn't phased. She expected him to say something, but he just gave her that usual smile through half-lidded eyes that both captivated and infuriated her.

"Whatever you say Helga," he said, getting to his feet. Helga stared solidly out of the window, barely aware that Phoebe had taken up Arnold's seat and was now eyeing her with interest.

"What was all that about?" she asked in her sweet voice.

"Nothing, Pheebs," Helga said in a dangerous tone. Phoebe knew better than to press the matter any further. The bus pulled up at another stop and Rhonda and Nadine climbed aboard. Helga looked up, as though sensing imminent peril.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Little Miss Lovely, been the epitome of joy this morning I hope?" Rhonda drawled at Helga. Gerald sat up in his seat. He had made himself the official judge of whether or not Helga's actions could be deemed 'nice', but he still felt that the bet was a little all over the place. But he could sort that out later, for now he just wanted to make sure that Helga stuck to her end of the bargain. Helga smiled sweetly.

"Well, of course Rhonda, why would I be anything but?" Her voice chimed out of her so sickly-sweet she wasn't all that sure where she had conjoured it from. Rhonda looked a little stumped, but at that moment took it upon herself to ruin this deal for Helga. Maybe she could earn herself a place on that wall instead. After all, she _was_ a Lloyd.

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind if I sat in your seat? All of the other ones are taken," Rhonda said politely, her eyes glimmering with malice.

"Not at all," said Helga, getting to her feet at once. She may have had a short fuse on her, but Helga wasn't stupid enough to fall for Rhonda's manipulation techniques. She had seen too many people fall fowl of them, and she wasn't ready to become part of that crowd. Once Rhonda had settled herself in Helga's chair without incident, her brain set to figuring out other ways she could drive Helga over the edge and eliminate her from the running, as it were. Rhonda was a master at getting what she wanted, no matter how she had to get it, and she wasn't going to be outsmarted this time. Helga looked over to the back of the bus and saw Gerald watching her with a keen eye.

"I'm going to have to be particularly careful when Tall Hair Boy is about," she muttered under her breath. The bus sped almost dangerously around the corners and the whole classed leaned in unison. Rhonda stuck out her foot on one especially sharp bend and sent Helga flying into Sid's lap. "Oh dear, I'm ever so sorry Sid," Helga said, trying to scrabble herself into a steady position and quickly picking up where she left off from Lila's lessons. Rhonda's loud fake laugh sounded through the bus.

"Oh Helga!" she exclaimed. "You always were a clumsy one. I'm really going to miss that." She helped Helga to her feet still laughing and it was everything Helga could do not to punch her snobbish nose around to the back of her head. Rhonda must have picked up on her quiet rage however, as suddenly she knew just the thing to use against Helga to make her blow her top.

"I suppose we could all write you once you're gone but I don't expect that will last very long. People just move on, don't they? And not to be rude or anything Helga darling, but I think some of us will be quite ready to forget you. I for one will-"

"Well Rhonda, if you don't like me I would never dream of asking you to write me," Helga said through clenched teeth. Rhonda bristled on regardless, thrilled at the fact that she was getting to Helga.

"Even if you did ask I doubt I would agree. Ask anyone on this bus, they'll more than likely say he same." Helga felt like crying. Though she knew Rhonda was just trying to make her angry, what she had just said hit a little too close to home for Helga. It was what she had been thinking all along, but not until Rhonda said it out loud did it really sink in. No one was going to write her, most probably. No one would ever give her a second thought ever again. Well, except maybe Phoebe, which she was glad for but she still counted most of the class as people she actually liked. A pain shot through her as she regretted never taking the chance to show them how much they really meant to her.

Gerald, and his vast knowledge of local urban legends, Eugene and his cheery outlook on his otherwise jinxed life, Nadine, and her extensive bug collection which, though at times very gross, Helga had to admit was still pretty cool. And how could she forget Brainy, a boy who knew her deepest darkest secret and never ever told, no matter how much she socked him in the face. It was strange for her to think that she would never hear him wheezing over her shoulder again.

It was this simple thought that brought tears to her eyes, and she looked away desperately, not wanting Rhonda to see her moment of weakness. Rhonda, on the other hand, felt awful when she saw Helga hide her face. All she had intended to do was make Helga lose her temper. Like most of the other kids Rhonda did not believe that Helga had the capacity to cry and now that she was it was deeply troubling for her to know that she was the one who had caused it. Helga had wiped her eyes furiously behind her back and now felt that her face was presentable enough for her to turn around again.

"Helga, I-" began Rhonda, but Arnold, who had been watching the scene from the back of the bus with a sort of fascinated horror, leapt to the front of the bus and took Rhonda by the arm.

"Don't go near her!" he yelled dramatically. Helga looked at him with a confused look on her face and wasn't suprised to find that a lot of the other kids joined in. Arnold, on the other hand, was looking at her like she had leprosy.

"In fact, don't go near that window at all!" he yelled, pointing above Sid. Sid, whose irratic fear of germs had never quite gone and instead just lay dormant, screamed as it hurried to the surface again. He jumped to his feet and grabbed Rhonda by her shirt, wailing hysterically.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE WINDOW, ARNOLD!" he yelled, his eyes screwed up in fear.

"I er, I saw a lot of dust blow in. You know, it went in Helga's eyes," Arnold said, tripping over his words. He never was a very good liar. Helga, however, was more than adept at it by now and caught up at once.

"Yeah, man it stings," she said, putting her hand to her eye and sitting down in Sid's seat. Rhonda wasn't sure she would have believed Helga, but she believed Arnold and went and sat back down. Helga mouthed a quick thank you at Arnold and he went and sat at the back of the bus again with Gerald. Sid didn't try and contest his seat and instead spent the remainder of the journey wandering up and down the aisle and not touching anything.

As the bus pulled up outside PS118, it was accompanied by the usual groans of Monday morning students. Helga trudged off the bus, her mind elsewhere and Arnold followed close behind her, in very much the same state. Helga could not understand why Arnold would have leapt to her defense like he did but then settled on it being repayment for her copying up his science project. Arnold could not understand why he had leapt to Helga's defense at all.

As they stepped off the bus they managed to get their legs entwined and fell down the steps, landing with a soft thud on the sidewalk. Rhonda, who was next off the bus, stood behind them waiting for them to clear the way. "Come on love birds, move it, some of us have places to be." Arnold merely muttered and got unsteadily to his feet, but all of Helga's alarm systems went off. _Love birds_? What did Rhonda mean by _love birds_? She knew this bet was a bad idea. You show one hint of weakness and suddenly you reveal your innermost thoughts and desires. To Rhonda Wellington Lloyd of all people. She didn't know if the place on the wall was worth all that trouble.

Helga got to her feet also, avoiding Rhonda's stare. "Not blushing are we Pataki?" Rhonda said slyly.

"Blushing?" Helga repeated, panicking. She felt as though someone had taken away her stomach and replaced it with a lead weight. "No one's blushing," she said, trying to look at Rhonda but her eyes still slid to Arnold.

"Oh," said Rhonda quietly so only Helga could hear. "I see." And with that she walked into the school building, her nose high in the air and a superior look on her face.

-

Helga spent the first two periods that day steadily chewing through her collection of number two pencils. If the Princess was on to her it would soon spread around the school like wildfire. Sure, she wanted to be remembered, but not for being a pathetic laughing stock. And even if Rhonda wasn't on to her, her silly yet ever so accurate rumours could dent Helga irreparably. As lunch drew ever closer, Helga could feel herself becoming more and more sick in her stomach, and by the time lunch was said and done, and Helga hadn't eaten a thing, she felt just about ready to throw up all over her desk.

Rhonda sat at the front of the class that day, and so she did not notice Helga falling to pieces behind her. She had spent recess staring at the wall outside the boys toilets, at the names that were graffitti tagged on there never to removed gliniting in the sunlight. Rhonda could see it now. the first student to actually see her name on the wall, the first student to be remembered there despite graduating. She would break Helga and then she would take the space that was meant to be hers. And this Arnold angle was just the thing. Helga was renound for being a tomboy and not remotely femenine, so a silly school-girl crush would be just the thing to spread her name around the school and tip her over the edge. Admittedly, Arnold was the innocent in this just like he had been in Helga's prank, but Rhonda did quite like Arnold, and she was certain he would be at least forgiving if this was ever traced back to her, not like the other boys. They would hate the idea of being forever branded as the object of Helga G. Pataki's desires.

"Helga, you're looking a little pale, are you alright?" Mr. Simmons asked worriedly as he observed Helga bending over her desk, clutching her waist.

"Oh, sure Mr. Simmons I'm just-" But Helga didn't get to finish her sentence. Obviously opening her mouth had been a big mistake. She felt the vomit rising in her throat and bolted out of the door before anyone had the chance to see what colour her breakfast had been.

"Ok class, settle down," Mr. Simmons urged as the students all leaned over their desks hoping to see Helga puking in the hallway. As the door slammed shut they all slumped back down in their chairs and continued on with their long division.

"You know what her problem is, don't you?" whispered Rhonda to Nadine, her voice lost under the chatter of the class.

"No, what?" said Nadine, both intrigued and worried.

"Lovesick," Rhonda said simply.

"No way," breathed Nadine. "Really? Helga?" Rhonda nodded. "But, from who?"

"Ok, don't tell anyone," Rhonda said in a way that indicated that Nadine might as well go and get a megaphone and a bell to ring right now, "but it's... Arnold."

"Arnold!" Nadine shrieked, causing everyone to hush. Even Phoebe looked up. Nadine blushed.

"Um, yes?" Arnold asked innocently from the side of the class.

"Er, nothing," said Nadine, staring at the floor.

"Helga's in love with you!" Rhonda blurted. Phoebe blanched but kept quiet. Arnold's eyes were as wide as plates. Something jogged in his mind.

_What else are you supposed to do when someone you love is in trouble?_

It was funny how he hadn't thought of that night on FTI at all since it had happened, but now with Rhonda's words it was more vivid than ever. "Well say something Arnold," Rhonda urged, "you sort of have at a time like this." She wanted to give the impression she was an expert; she needed a quote. He opened his mouth to speak but he felt someone nudging him in the ribs.

"Be careful what you say Arnold man," Gerald hissed at him, "it'll be all around the school by the end of the day, and that'll be the twisted version." Arnold closed his mouth again and thought for a second.

"What do you mean, _say something_?" he finally settled for.

"Don't you feel anything?" Rhonda said in a scandalised voice.

"I'm, er, very flattered," he said. Beside him he heard Gerald groan. He saw Phoebe shake her head. Rhonda just turned her head defiantely away from him and stared at the blackboard.

"Poor, poor Helga," Rhonda said, shaking her sleek black hair from side to side.

"Why, what did I do now?" Helga said as she walked back into the classroom wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. As one the class fixed her with looks of either sympathy or faint ammusement and she felt her insides turn cold. Rhonda had been up to something.

"Oh, nothing," Rhonda said, faintly. She was more than satisfied that this was the right way to go about things. She had told her fair share of little white lies in the past and she couldn't see how one more about puppy love could hurt.

Arnold was desperate for something, anything to break the tension as Helga went and sat down in her seat.

"Game of baseball after school?" Gerald announced, granting Arnold's wish.


	8. The Rules Of Bets And Baseball

**Chapter 8 - The Rules Of Bets And Baseball**

The heavy feeling in Helga's stomach didn't leave her at all for the rest of the day. By the time she got home that evening she was just about ready to pass out. She forced her dinner down her throat as she knew she had better eat something or else she really would faint. She listened with half an ear to her dad yammering down his cell phone while simultaniously shoveling spaghetti into his mouth.

"Yeah, I know Nick... yeah I made sure I read the contract this time... it is Nick... yeah, the only reason I keep you on board is because you're such a weasel... hey hey, there are ladies present... what..? what kind of a problem..?" Bob stood up and wandered out of the room, still holding his fork.

After dinner Helga slumped in an armchair and flicked through the television channels. She had homework to do but she was too preoccupied with Rhonda and her evil schemes to even try and concentrate. Part of her wanted to know what she was up to, but the other part of her wanted to run away and hide under a rock in case it was something truly terrible. She heard a knock on her door and dragged herself heavily to her feet.

Stinky and Sid were standing on her stoop, mischevious grins on their faces. Helga's suspicions were immediately aroused. "Yes?"

"Uh, hi Helga," Sid said, not able to hide his faint smirks, "you coming to the baseball game?" Helga wanted to know what they were laughing at. She opened her mouth to argue, but then Stinky made a very over-the-top and showy act of slipping down her steps. As far as Helga could see he didn't actually hurt himself at all. She rolled her eyes and wondered where the prank was.

"Oh my!" Stinky drawled, clutching his shin but still grinning like a maniac, "Oh my poor leg!" Helga raised an eyebrow and looked at Sid.

"Don't look at me!" he said quickly. "I'd help him but I can't, er, bend. Bad back." Helga sighed and trudged down her steps. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gerald leaning around the corner, spying on her. _So this is a test_, she thought. She took one of Stinky's hands in hers and despite her sweet disposition she could have sworn she saw him flinch.

"Up you get Stinky," she said, her back twinging a little as she pulled at him. Getting Stinky up was, however, proving to be quite a difficult task. He squirmed and bent and wailed but he would not get to his feet.

"Oh! Oh my! It's mighty painful on account of the fall!" Helga shook her head and let go of Stinky.

"Do you want me to go get you an ice pack or something?" she said offhandedly.

"Um, sure Helga, that'd be great," Sid said quickly. Helga knew when someone was trying to get rid of her but she didn't argue and went back into her house. As she rooted through her freezer a thought occured to her. If Gerald was around the corner then Arnold was sure to be close by. He had seemed strange around her, avoiding her almost, on the bus home. She thought it was weird that she would notice something like that as she and Arnold usually gave each other a wide berth anyway. She bundled some ice cubes into a towel and went back outside to Stinky, almost forgetting what she was doing and why she was doing it.

"Here ya go Stinky," she said, holding it out to him, her head a million miles away.

"Could you put it on my knee for me please Helga?" he asked in a simpering voice. Helga felt herself involuntarily twich. "It'd be awful _nice_ of ya," he added smoothly, emphasising all the right words. Helga sighed and got down on her knees, pressing the ice against Stinky's leg. Behind her she heard the thumping sound of shoes on concrete, but before she could turn around to see what was happening she felt something slimy slam against the back of her head.

She immediately pushed herself to her feet and watched Sid as he ran off around the corner where Gerald was hiding. The slimy mass slithered over her shoulders and all over her dress. She ran her hand through her hair and looked at what she scraped off. Her hand was soaked in what she immediately recognised as red paint, charcoal dust and tapioca pudding. She closed her eyes, humiliation running through her every vein. This quickly turned to anger when she saw that Stinky was miraculously cured and standing before her, laughing. Suddenly all Helga could see was red, and all Helga knew was that Stinky was closest.

WHAM!

Stinky stumbled backwards at the force of Helga's push. Helga was determined not punch him but as he fell butt-first into the garbage can by her stoop she couldn't help but think that maybe she should have. Like a swarm of bees her classmates were around her, pointing and yelling and declaring her the loser. Once again Helga wiped the gooey mass out of her eyes and glared at them. Rhonda was the first to step forward.

"Well, that was rather easy," she said evily. Helga narrowed her eyes at her, and tried her best not to punch her prissy hair out of place. Instead she just stood perfectly still and said nothing.

"I guess you just don't do nice, huh Helga?" Park said. Still Helga remained silent.

"You're just a mean old bully with stupid billy-goat ears," Harold said, laughing hysterically and turning pinker by the second. Helga still kept quiet. Gerald stepped forward.

"But you were provoked..." he mused, wiping a finger over her dripping shoulder and inspecting it.

"That doesn't matter!" Rhonda protested. "There was nothing in the rules that said we couldn't push her a little." Rhonda narrowed her eyes at Helga. Helga said nothing.

"There were no rules at all Rhonda," Gerald said truthfully. Rhonda looked like she wanted to argue, but for once she had nothing to say. "The bet stands, but now I'm laying down some rules!" Gerald declared. The class were all ears, looking at Helga as though she were on trial. Helga couldn't speak, she felt caged.

"Firstly," Gerald began, "like baseball, Helga will get three strikes. And then she's out."

"This counts as a strike, right?" Rhonda urged, pointing at Stinky. Gerald mused for a while.

"Yes, it does," he said finally. Rhonda punched the air triumphantly, and Helga muttered under her breath. She didn't know how they could all stand around and debate her fate as though she weren't there like this. She started to wonder why she was so desperate for them to remember her. She looked around the crowd. Phoebe looked most upset, she kept throwing Helga sympathetic looks which she wasn't catching. Arnold was just staring from Gerald to Rhonda, obviously thinking this was something he need not get involved in... yet. Some of the kids obviously saw this as a game and thought no more or less of her, like Harold and Sid and even Stinky, despite being trapped in a bin. In fact, it was only Rhonda who appeared to be out for Helga's blood, which Helga thought on the whole wasn't bad.

"Secondly, Rhonda will be Helga's tormenter, seeing as she's already taken up that role. This means she can aggrevate Helga until she snaps or until the bet ends. If Helga wins, Rhonda forefeits." Rhonda looked smug. Now she could openly try to take Helga down, it was her role in the game. There was no doubt in her mind that she would suceed. There were protests at this rule, and much talk of it being kid's stuff, but Gerald just waved his hand impatiently and reminded them they _were_ kids.

"Thirdly, I will be judge of naughty and nice," Gerald said, winking at Phoebe although only Arnold saw this. "And fourthly, we're gonna need a confidant."

"A what?" exclaimed several of the kids.

"A confidant. Someone on Helga's team, seeing as Rhonda can enlist whoever she wants to try and break Helga down. Someone for Helga to take her rage out on in private as it were... well no, maybe I'm not explaining it right." He took a deep breath. "Someone in debt to Helga, someone to take the blame once or twice, a safety net, a get out of jail free card, a... oh for the love of, I can't explain it really." He looked defeated. Arnold stepped forward.

"Someone to remind her that no matter what her tormenter throws at her she isn't alone." Everyone looked at him. "I've played this game before," he said simply.

"Precisely!" Gerald said to Arnold, but he was looking at Helga and she at him. Helga snorted. _This is the way he does things_, she thought. _Someone's in trouble and he leaps to the rescue. Ah well, it'll be nice for the little shrimp to hang around with me for a while-_

"Phoebe?" Gerald asked, snapping Helga from her trance.

"Of course," Phoebe consented. Helga felt like sinking to her knees and screaming at the sky, but still, she said nothing.

"Then it's settled," Gerald continued. "There are proper rules now. Helga, you're one strike down with two to go and the rest of you? You're scouts, making sure Helga sticks to the rules. Now lets play ball!" He held his baseball bat above his head like a sword and they all started toward Gerald field. Helga wondered when her say in all of this had disappeared into the abyss, but she knew she had had plenty of chances to speak up. She smiled faintly and decided to properly get started. Only two people saw Helga turn around to apologise to Stinky and help him out of the bin. Stinky, of course, and Arnold.


	9. Play Ball!

**Chapter 9 - Play Ball!**

Helga did not join the game that evening. She was in desperate need of a bath and a little reflection. As she lay soaking amongst the sweet smelling oils she realised that the best way to be nice to her classmates was clearly to avoid them. "That's something I can definitely do," she said to herself, sinking below the bubbles.

The rest of the fourth grade class assembled at Gerald field to play baseball, although it was obvious that for some of them baseball was the farthest thing from their minds. Phoebe and Sheena elected to sit out of the game, Phoebe stuck her nose into a poetry book and Sheena cheered on everyone else. Rhonda and Nadine stayed firmly in the outfield, and the rest of the class took up their respective places. Rhonda was eager to get more stirring up done.

Arnold stepped up to the bat. He clutched his bat so firmly his knuckles turned white. Harold wound up the ball and let it go at Arnold, who swung with all his might but still missed. "Strike one!" yelled Gerald, tossing the ball back to the pitcher. Harold threw the ball again and again Arnold hit only air. "Strike two!" Arnold kicked the dirt, gripped his bat firmly and focused. He blocked out everything except the baseball clutched in Harold's pudgy hand. Harold wound the ball up, released it, Arnold closed his eyes and swung his bat... and the ball sailed straight into Gerald's glove. "Strike Three! You're out!" Gerald cried. "Sorry man," he added as Arnold went and sat down on the bench. He slumped himself down heavily on the wood and watched Eugene step up. Sheena leapt to her feet and cheered.

"Not concentrating, Arnold?" came a voice. Arnold looked up. It was Rhonda, speaking out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes still focused on the action.

"Nah," said Arnold with a faint smile, "I guess I'm just not that good at baseball."

"Oh, so you don't feel, say, oh, _bad_ about what you said about Helga?" she said.

"I didn't say anything about Helga!" Arnold protested. Rhonda turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips.

"You said you were 'flattered'!" she shrieked, as though it were some sort of swear word.

"And?"

"And when you say that it basically means you couldn't care less about Helga or her feelings!" Rhonda was in full swing. She was acting like she'd never acted before.

"Well, er, Rhonda, I don't really see how it's any of your business," Arnold said quietly. He knew that if he were the one who was in Helga's position he wouldn't want his feelings bandied around like gossip. Rhonda looked completely uncaring.

"Helga's my friend, Arnold," she said quietly.

"Really?" said Arnold skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Well, no. Alright, so we never really got along that well but seeing as she's going to England I want to try to be her friend." Arnold gave her a tired look.

"You've been elected her tormentor," he said dryly. Rhonda opened her mouth to say something, thought about it, and then closed it again.

"Fine, Arnold," she finally said, "but my, er, friend, is upset now all because of you!" she said, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. Then she turned on her heel and went to talk to Nadine, whispering things in her ear and throwing him occasional glances. Arnold rested his chin on his hands. He knew that Rhonda and Helga didn't really get along, so why would Helga tell Rhonda how she felt? Unless, of course, _Rhonda was making it up. _Arnold looked over at Phoebe, who was trying very hard to pretend that she hadn't heard anything and was failing spectacularly.

"Um, Phoebe?" Arnold asked quietly. Phoebe's book leapt from her hands and fell into a crumpled heap on the ground.

"Yes?" she squeaked, before clearing her throat.

"Has Helga ever... mentioned anything... about, you know, me?" Arnold asked warily. Phoebe's mind was racing, trying to find a way to get her out of this awkward position. What Helga said about Arnold and what Helga actually meant were two very different things, and Phoebe knew it. She wasn't blind.

"Um, nothing of particular note," she said, which was at least true. Helga had never actually _said_ anything about loving Arnold to her...

"Oh, right," said Arnold, looking at his hands. He had never been so confused in all his life. Helga's speech on top of FTI, Rhonda's gossip, Phoebe's denial, it all made no sense to him. It didn't occur to him how he would deal with the knowledge that Helga was into him, he was more concerned with finding out the truth of her feelings. He sighed. He knew that Phoebe wouldn't lie to him, but was it right to feel disappointed?

"But maybe I'm not the one you should be asking," Phoebe said slowly, pulling Arnold from his thoughts. Arnold looked at her. She was right, of course, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He could deal perfectly well with having crushes, but he didn't think he could handle the responsibility of being someone else's unrequited crush. He knew how that felt, and it wasn't fun.

Phoebe smiled at him and picked her book up off the grass. It had been a desperate step for Phoebe to say that last thing to Arnold, she may have just opened an overflowing can of worms, but Phoebe knew Helga better than anyone. In everything else she was a strong, independent young lady, but Phoebe had always known that when it eventually came to Arnold, Helga would have to be pushed.

"Hey Arnold, get on third!" Stinky yelled as the teams changed over. Arnold gave Phoebe one last look before getting off the bench and standing at his appointed base, still lost in his own thoughts. He was hardly aware of Rhonda stepping up to bat.

"I swear Curly, if you throw that ball so hard I break my nail again I am going to kill you," she said dangerously. Curly merely smiled at her. He wound up the ball giving Rhonda a jaunty wink before releasing it perfectly for Rhonda to hit a home run. She gave a him a sweet flirtatious smile as the ball sailed off down the street. Rhonda had always enjoyed playing with Curly; he may be a bowl-haired little shrimp but he had his uses, and keeping him sweet never did any harm.Rhonda strolled past Arnold, deliberately throwing him a filthy look.

"Hey, cut it out Rhonda," he said. She stopped in her tracks.

"Cut what out?" she asked innocently, inspecting her perfectly polished fingernails.

"You know what," he replied in a harsh voice. The game came to a shuddering halt as everyone turned to look at Arnold and Rhonda. "Even if Helga does love me, like you say, what am I supposed to do about it?" He could feel his blood boiling, he hated hurting people, no matter who it was, and this was something he couldn't fix. He didn't like people pointing it out.

"I just think you should tell her you know how she feels and then you should let her down gently," Rhonda said, not even looking at him. She knew that it would cripple Helga more if she heard it straight from Arnold, and she would be sure to blow up at him and deny everything.

"Since when," Arnold said, repeating himself, " is it any of your business?"

"I'm making it my business," she said coldly, fixing him with such a stare he had to back away little bit. "And I think we should come with you, to make sure she keeps to her side of the bet." It was then that it clicked with Arnold. Rhonda was just trying to get Helga mad. At anyone, at him. She just wanted Helga to lose so badly she would do anything to make it happen. Arnold returned to his usual relaxed demeanour.

"Sure," he said quietly, smiling, "I'll go right now."

-

A/N: Just a short one. I promise the next one will be action packed! There's still a lot of things to take care of... Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. -Sky.


	10. Arnold vs Big Bob

**Chapter 10 - Arnold vs. Big Bob**

The group of kids marched back to Helga's house buzzing with anticipation. Things like this rarely happened and when they did nobody wanted to miss it. Arnold felt like he had swallowed a cinder block. He really wished the other kids wouldn't be around to witness his confrontation with Helga. This thing could destroy her and they were all treating it like a cheap thrill in their otherwise dull days.

Rhonda was stalking Gerald very closely, dancing around him and assuring him that he should watch Helga like a hawk incase she slipped up. Gerald was being his usual laid back self, reassuring Rhonda with a mere glance in her direction and wave of his hand. Phoebe had bravely decided to stay up front with Arnold, struggling inwardly between begging Arnold not to do this to Helga in front of everyone and her curiosity as to what would transpire.

-

Helga sat in front of her vanity dresser, her pink bath robe tied around her, drying her straggly blonde hair with a towel. She felt completely miserable. The kids all seemed against her and though she would never tell, it had severely dented her confidence just as she was readying herself to finally reveal her secret to Arnold. She also had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind about what Rhonda had been up to, and what she was sure to get up to as the days went by. She sighed and got to her feet, setting her hairbrush down gently. She thought she heard a knock at the door, but her mind was miles away and she couldn't be sure. "Helga!" She jumped, pulled from her thoughts.

"Yes Dad?" she called through her closed door.

"Door!" he dad yelled without futher explanation. She thought to ask but then decided she would no doubt find out when she got downstairs. She clicked open her bedroom door and plodded down her steps, her footfalls muffled by her fluffy pink slippers. The first thing she saw through the frosted glass of the front door was her classmates, all with interested smiles on their faces. Helga considered running upstairs and putting some clothes on, but then she pulled her robe tightly around her and pulled the door fully open. She was not entirely suprised to see that it was Arnold standing on her doorstep, but she was worried by the look on his face. Rhonda's eyes twinkled.

"Um, hey Arnold," she said, suddenly aware of how tired she felt.

"Um, hi Helga. We, er, we need to talk." Helga's insides froze. He knew, she could feel it in her gut. He knew. But how? "You see," Arnold faltered. Helga wasn't really listening. She was racing through the many possibilites in her mind, wondering what she had done, where it was she had slipped up. She noticed Phoebe looking guiltily at her feet, and her eyes narrowed. "Actually, can I come in?" Arnold asked.

"No!" Rhonda shouted. She looked outraged. "That's not fair! You can't do it like that! What if she throws things? We won't be able to see!"

"I don't care Rhonda, this has nothing to do with anyone else," Arnold said smoothly. He was starting to get very annoyed with Rhonda's behaviour towards Helga lately, he couldn't understand why she was being so mean.

"Gerald!" Rhonda shrieked, changing her attack, "tell him he can't do that!" Gerald looked at Arnold, his best friend, standing on the stoop of Helga G. Pataki's house and begging for five minutes alone with her. Gerald sensed danger at every turn, but then he looked at Helga. The usual fury was still present in her eyes, but did he also see something else? A sort of peace? Maybe it was the calm before the storm. Nevertheless, Gerald gave Rhonda a short nod and stepped back.

"He goes in alone Rhonda, this is too major for a bet," he warned. Rhonda's mind snapped. This was her plan to make Helga blow, and now she was being told it wasn't allowed. Oh no, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was allowed to do anything she wanted.

"You never said there were rules!" she yelled at him, pressing her face up close to his. "If I had known that I wouldn't have bothered-" Rhonda caught herself and quietly trailed off. Gerald raised an eyebrow.

"You would never..?" he pushed, everything coming together in his mind. Rhonda looked flustered.

"It's my job to... anger her, isn't it?" Rhonda said quickly. Everyone turned around to face them.

"So, you made it all up then?" Gerald asked.

"Of course," Rhonda said, examining her fingernails.

"And Helga doesn't really love Arnold?"

"Are you mad!" Rhonda said with a laugh. "Helga? Care about anyone but herself? As if!" Rhonda howled, tears forming in her eyes. Phoebe let out a small sigh of relief.

"Well, I suppose if she doesn't really love him it's alright for us to watch how it all goes down," Gerrald said after a moments thought. "Arnold-" he began, but when he looked up he saw that Helga's door was closed and Arnold was gone.

-

Helga's heart was pounding against her chest like a hammer. As she looked at Arnold sitting on the other end of her couch examining her living room, she suddenly wished she had put something else on when she had first thought of it. She pulled her robe tightly around her, but when she saw Arnold finally look back at her she felt horribly exposed.

"Look foo- Arnold," she corrected, remembering the bet, "I'm going to go and get dressed, you wait here for a second." She got to her feet and left the living room, closing the front door behind her. Arnold put his hands on his knees and looked at the walls. You could barely see the paper for the family photographs that lined it. He stood up and walked over to have a closer look, a faint smile on his lips. Memories had always been important to Arnold, he liked photos like this that showed how proud the parents were of their kids. Olga, graduating from high school, Valedictorian of course. Olga setting off for university, winning a talent contest in pre school, her first piano recital. And shot after shot of Olga and her parents at the park, the zoo, museums, in the house.

He didn't really notice there were none of Helga.

There were shots of Bob and Miriam when they were younger, their wedding photo and at their prom. "That was our first date," came a gruff voice behind him. He looked around. "Alfie, right?"

"Um, no Mr. Pataki, it's Arnold," he said, feeling the familiar sentence creep up his throat. "Olga sure is very good at a lot of things, isn't she?"

"You better believe it boy. There's nothing that girl can't do. Did you know she was reading Shakespeare by the time she was five? And when she was four, she wrote her first piece of music. And last year, she..."

Upstairs in her room, Helga frowned as she heard her father telling Arnold about how great OIga was, certain that Arnold was drinking in every word. She brushed her hair up into it's usual pigtails and tied on her pink bow. She pulled a fresh pair of socks from her drawer and started to put them on without sitting down. The first one slipped over her foot no problem, but her big toe got caught on the elastic of the second and it wasn't long before she lost her balance and went crashing to the floor.

Downstairs, both Arnold and Bob looked at the ceiling as the crash resounded downstairs. Something clicked in Arnold's mind. He had nearly forgotten that Helga was there at all, and that this was her house. There were no signs to show it. It chilled him in his stomach to think that when you were in this house, Helga just disappeared from your mind, as if she didn't exist at all. Bob rolled his eyes. "That girl is so clumsy," he said, frowning. "Not like Olga. Olga was the star in the local ballet-"

"Where are all the photo's of Helga Mr. Pataki?" Arnold said, butting in.

"What?" Bob said, pulled from his gushing rant about his favourite daughter."Oh, they're up there somewhere," he said, waving his hand at the wall. Arnold stepped closer and inspected them all. He squinted as he saw picture after picture with Olga in, but he couldn't see a spot of pink at all.

"I don't see her Mr. Pataki," Arnold said, turning around. Bob sighed and got to his feet.

"She's in that one, the silver one in the corner," he said, walking out of the room, apparently bored with the conversation now it had turned away from his favourite subject. Arnold crouched down to have a look at the picture. It was of Bob, Miriam and Olga standing outside of their house smiling, and it looked fairly recent. Olga was smiling widely, standing inbetween her parents. Bob was beaming as though he had never been prouder, his arm over Olga's shoulder. Miriam had a smile on her face and was holding a toy horse. Arnold searched, but he still couldn't see Helga.

Tucked into the corner of the frame was a passport photo of Olga looking fabulous. Gently, Arnold plucked it from the frame. Helga was underneath it, making a vain attempt to smile despite being pushed to the edge of the photograph. Arnold could tell that the smile was utterly fake, but he was suprised that she was trying. All she wanted was to belong. Suddenly the house was a horrible place to him, cold and unfriendly. He shivered and sat back down. He heard the living room door click shut behind him.

"Better," Helga muttered, smoothing down her pink dress. "So what's up bucko?" She was desperate to neither lose the bet nor show an ounce of over-kindness to Arnod, so she was trying to keep everything short and sweet. Arnold could just say what he'd come to say and get out.

"I, er, I spoke to Rhonda today." Helga looked out of her living room window and saw that the sunlight was blocked by the faces of her peers. She crossed the room and pulled the curtains shut.

"Oh yeah? Why couldn't you say that in front of them?" she asked, jabbing her finger towards the street.

"I wasn't finished," Arnold replied in a tone that said 'and you know it'. "She, er, she told me something about you..."

"Oh yeah, and what does the Rhondaloid know about me?" she spat, and then clapped her hand to her mouth. Arnold lowered his eyelids and smiled.

"I'm not a spy, I won't say a word." Helga expressed her thanks by folding her arms across her chest. "So, yeah, anyway, I mean, she said something about you and me..." Helga felt herself beginning to sweat with anxiety. On the few occasions when Arnold had set foot in her house, she had been light-headed and giddy, just cherishing the precious few moments before she said something horrible and he left, offended. But now he had something to say, the conversation with Arnold she had been both wanting and dreading, and she couldn't insult her way out of it. She wasn't ready, not yet. She had to work her way around it.

"Oh yeah? Is it that I want to marry you and have lots of little football headed babies, honeymooning in Gay Paris with Champagne on the Seine? She's a card that girl, she's been telling me the same things about you. She's just stirring trouble, trying to make me lose this bet. Now, I know we're not the best of friends but I know you're not fool enough to fall for her manipulative ways, and I know I'm not. Me and you? Ha!" All of this came out as a chattering stream, but Helga was certain that Arnold caught her drift. Things were falling into place in his mind, and she could see him, sitting on her sofa and working things out. It struck Helga as terrible that the person she cared the most about was the one she lied to most often.

"So Rhonda was just... making it up?" Arnold said quietly.

"Not disappointed, are ya?" Helga said sarcastically, a happy feeling expanding inside her, full of hope and longing.

"No," said Arnold, shattering Helga and not noticing, "well sort of, in Rhonda."

"Well, I'm not letting it get to me and neither should-"

"OLGA!" Helga rolled her eyes.

"It's Helga dad!" she yelled.

"Whatever, come here and do the dishes, it's your turn!"

"It's always my turn," Helga muttered as she walked towards the kitchen, but she went anyway. Arnold was a little shocked. He knew how headstrong Helga was, he expected her to protest, even just a little, but instead she just went quietly with her head bowed and her shoulders slumped. "You can let yourself out, right Arnold?" she asked.

"Um, actually, do you want a hand?" he asked galantly. He swore he saw her smile.

"Sure, you know, if you don't have to report back." Arnold shook his head and walked with her into the kitchen.They were both met with a large pile of dirty dishes, encrusted with dried-on filth. "Oh yeah, Dad had the boys round last night for poker... those boys sure do like their nachos."

"With chilli-cheese dip," Arnold said, frowning as he unstuck a spoon from a large serving plate with some force. Helga ran the water in the sink bowl while Arnold searched around for a fresh drying cloth.

"Try the drawer over the washer," Helga said, adding washing liquid to the water and watching it foam. "You know, you really don't have to help Arnold."

"I _want_ to help," Arnold said strongly. Helga plunged her hands into the hot water and began trying to remove some of the crust from the dishes. Arnold stood by her side, waiting for her to hand him the clean plates for him to dry and put away. Bob strode in to the kitchen again with another load of dirty dishes in his arms.

"Here, clean these too while you're at it," he said, dumping them into the sink and splashing Helga's clean hair with the filthy water. She closed her eyes as it trickled down her forehead, and Arnold felt his chest tighten with anger. He waited until he was sure Bob was out of the room before turning to Helga.

"Why don't you say something to him Helga?" he said, handing her the cloth so she could dry her face.

"I already did. It doesn't change anything. I'm not going to waste my breath anymore." She turned back to the sink. "It's best just do what he wants quickly and get it- OUCH!"

"Helga, what's wrong?" Arnold asked worridly, rushing to her side. She pulled a wet hand out of the water. A large cut ran down the side of thumb to the back of her hand, tinging the water a rusty red.

"Must be a bread knife in there or something," Helga said, pulling her hand close to her face to inspect the cut. It was deep, so deep she could tell right there and then that she was going to need stitches. Arnold winced; he had never been that good at handling blood.

"Want me to get your Dad?" he asked. Helga was all for saying 'no', but she knew her father was going to have to drive her to hospital to fix this.

"Suppose," she said, holding her hand above the sink and trying not to bleed everywhere. Arnold ran into the living room where Bob was nicely settled in an arm chair, watching the TV blare back at him.

"Mr. Pataki, come quick! Helga's cut herself and she's really hurt!" he said, immediately turning back to the kitchen and expecting Bob to follow. When he did not, however, Arnold stopped and looked at him. "Did you hear me Mr. Pataki? Helga's cut her hand open!"

"Put a band aid on it, it'll be fine," he said, raising the remote to turn the volume up even more. Arnold felt like screaming at him.

"No, Mr. Pataki, she has to go to hospital and have it sewn up. She's really hurt!" Bob shifted in his chair.

"Won't it wait until after The Wheel?" he whined.

"No, Mr. Pataki," said Arnold, trying to calm his voice. Bob pushed himself to his feet.

"Fine, you get the girl and I'll go get the car from the garage." Arnold watched as Bob slowly grabbed his keys and left through the front door, muttering something about 'more expense'. Arnold walked back into the kitchen where he saw Helga leaning heavily against the counter and looking very pale. He rushed to her side and put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"Helga are you ok?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm fine Arnold, just a little woozy from the blood..." she whispered, and then promptly fainted into his arms. Arnold caught her just in time and managed to find a way to hold both her and the drying cloth she had been gripping around her hand. He did not know, however, how he would get her to the car.

"Um, Mr. Pataki?" he called. "Mrs. Pataki?" There was no answer. He decided it would be better to try and wake Helga up. He pulled her over to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing her face a little.

"Hey, cut that out," she mumbled, waving her free hand in front of her face.

"Helga, wake up! We've got to get you outside," Arnold urged. Helga seemed to regain a little focus.

"Huh? Oh, the cut..." Upon remembering that she was hurt she looked as though she might pass out again, but she managed to shakily stay on her feet, Arnold draping one of her arms over his shoulders and helping her out of the kitchen. She stumbled through the living room with Arnold's assistance and with some difficulty he managed to open the door and get her down the front steps. Bob was already sitting in the car, looking impatient and beeping his horn noisily. Arnold was too busy strapping Helga in the back seat to snap at him, which was lucky becuase he was growing less and less fond of Helga's father with each second that passed. He climbed into the car beside Helga and buckled his seat belt.

"Come on, get a move on. If I'm lucky I can catch the repeat later," he said, starting the engine and pulling away from the kerb. Arnold ignored him, all of his attention on Helga. The cloth was now saturated in blood, it was starting to drip onto her pink dress, and she had her head slumped on the back seat with her eyes closed. Arnold didn't think she had fainted because she kept making moaning sounds, but he knew she was pretty out of it. The car came to a screeching halt at a red light. Bob turned around in his seat.

"She alright?" he asked. Arnold was relieved that he showed some concern for his daughter.

"Yeah, I don't think it's as bad as it looks, and it's only the sight of blood making her light-headed," Arnold replied reassuringly.

"Good, in that case don't you dare let her bleed on my leather upholstry or there'll be hell to pay," he growled, turning back to face front. Arnold scowled at the back of his head. He looked over at Helga, and saw that there was a thin trickle of blood running onto the back seat, and he leaned over her to wipe it off with the bottom of his shirt.

"Hey Arnoldo-o, don't go adding anymore fuel to Rhonda's fire," Helga said dreamily. Arnold looked up at her.

"Helga, you're awake... sort of."

"Yeah, are we, er, going to the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"In Bob's car?"

"Yep." Helga tried to shift her wounded hand onto her leg. "What are you doing?" Arold said in a fretful manner. "You'll aggrevate it if you keep shifting it around."

"I just don't want to bleed on Bob's seats," she said, turning her head to look out the window. The car sped through the streets of the city toward Hillwood General, breaking several laws as it did so. Bob skidded into the car park, screaming into a disabled space at an odd angle. He switched the engine off and got out of the car.

"Come on," he pushed as Arnold helped Helga out. He went ahead four paces as he rushed to the reception of the emergency room, leaving Arnold to struggle with Helga. While Bob shouted at the receptionist to get his daughter to the front of the queue, (who luckily mistook his impatientness for concern), Arnold settled Helga in a chair, which was easier than he thought it would be as she was starting to wake up now.

"Thanks Arnold," she said sweetly, looking around the emergency room. An oldish looking man sitting across from her had a deep gash on his forehead but appeared to be asleep, and a woman was struggling to keep her two twins seated, one of whom had bubbles coming out of his mouth. She smiled as the other twin became tranfixed by his brothers antics, and then she closed her eyes.

"Olga!" her Dad yelled, and she snapped her eyes back open again. "When's your birthday?" he shouted, holding a pen over a form on the desk and looking confused. Arnold felt shocked, first by the fact that Mr. Pataki didn't know his own child's brithday, and secondly by the uncaring tone in which Helga had answered.

"Oh, he always forgets," Helga said dismissively with a wave of her good hand.

"I suppose you can do when put on the spot, but he never forgets it on the actual day, right?" he said with a smile, but Helga didn't answer. Arnold stared in shock at Helga's father as he came and sat down.

"What you doing boy, catching flies?" he growled, before picking up a fishing magazine and burying his head in it. Arnold felt his eye twitch in rage, but he turned his attention back to Helga.

"You want a soda?" he asked. Helga nodded, and then closed her eyes again. Arnold wandered up the corridor to the vending machine. He didn't know why, but he had never really liked hospitals. They gave him the creeps, even though he'd never been in one in his entire life. Not as a patient anyway. He pressed the button for two cokes and went to sit back down. He paused for a moment when he noticed Helga and her father were talking to each other. He didn't want to interrupt. Helga held up her hand in her father's direction and he looked at it. Arnold smiled; at last he was acting more like a father should. He walked over to give Helga her soda before she noticed him just standing there, and he could have sworn he heard her say, 'sorry Dad, I know I'm clumsy, I won't do it again.'

He sat down inbetween them again and handed Helga her soda. "We're gonna be here hours," Bob muttered to himself.

-

When they were finally called some time later, all three of them had fallen asleep, Arnold slumped on Helga's shoulder and feeling guilty about it when he opened his eyes. "Olga Pataki?" a voice called. Helga got to her feet, as did Arnold while rolling his eyes, but Bob kept his eyes shut, the magazine draped over his face.

"Oh, Bob doesn't like needles," Helga said as they both followed the nurse into a cubicle so Helga could be treated. She felt cold, lying to Arnold again. Helga sat on the end of a bed while the nurse went to fetch some more cloths for her hand, and they waited for the doctor. "Arnold, look. Um, thanks for coming. You really didn't have to, I know we're not..." she didn't finish her sentence. "And I'm sorry about Bob, he just gets grumpy when he's missing The Wheel."

"Helga, I wanted to come. I never did do anything to thank you for what you did for the neighbourhood." Helga bit her lip. "And besides, you're really hurt, you need someone around to take care of you."

"I have Bob." Arnold snorted, before immediately mentally kicking himself. He might not agree with the man's ways, but Bob Pataki was Helga's father, and he couldn't really stand in front of Helga and insult him.

"Sorry, Helga, it's just... he doesn't seem to care that much. I don't understand."

"If I was really hurt I'm sure he'd care, but I'm not really, so he sees me as just getting in the way. It's always been this way Arnold, you get used to it."

"You shouldn't have to," Arnold said quietly as the doctor came in.

"Hello there Olga, that's quite a nasty cut you have there. I think it's going to need some stitches, and you'll have to come back in a few weeks to have them taken out again. One thing though, we don't seem to be able to find your medical record, any reason for that?" The doctor was a friendly looking young man, who just made you feel a bit better by being in the room. Helga smiled at him, and Arnold swore he saw her flutter her eyelashes a little bit. In reality he couldn't have been further from the truth, Helga had never noticed anyone but him, but he didn't know that. Helga was just glad to see a caring adult that day.

"It's because my name isn't Olga, it's Helga. Olga's my big sister," Helga said, a little downcast.

"Olga Pataki! Of course!" he said, lights coming on all over his mind. "She did some charity work here last summer, very good she was too." Helga felt the familiar feeling of being cast into her sister's shadow, and she looked down at her knees. "I know how you feel," the doctor said. "I have an over-achieving big sister too." He winked at Helga, who positively beamed at him. "Right then Helga, let me just go and tell the nurse of the mistake, and then I'll be right back to patch you up."

Helga sat happily on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth, smiling like a mad woman. "You're probably the only happy person in here," Arnold commented with a laugh.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Helga said, completely forgetting herself. "Today hasn't been to bad at all. Ok, so I was sick at school and I had that showdown with Rhonda and everyone else, but now I have a nice doctor taking caring of me who understands how much it bites to have a sister like Olga, the sun's making an appearence and you're here-" Whoops. "I mean, you're here to distract Big Bob away from me," she finished in a panicky voice. The doctor came back in.

"Ok, let's get started. Let me have a look at that hand of yours." Helga unwrapped it from the cloth. The cut was much deeper than Arnold had first thought, and very messy. Helga was smiling at it.

"It's a doozy, ain't it doc?" she said, grinning.

"It sure is young lady," he said, getting a torch from his pocket and shining it on the cut to look for anything that might have gotten trapped in there. "Um..."

"Arnold," Arnold said when he noticed the doctor was addressing him.

"Arnold, this is going to get a whole lot worse before it gets better, you can step outside and wait for a second if you want."

"Do you mind Helga? I feel a little..." Arnold blanched.

"Be my guest you little wimp," Helga said, but her eyes shone with fondness. Helga watched as Arnold brushed through the curtain and went to sit with Mr. Pataki.

"Did you see the nurse who brought you in here?" the doctor asked as he started to stich up Helga's cut. She didn't even wince.

"Blonde chick with the pretty eyes?" Helga asked.

"Yep. I've been trying to ask her out for two years," he said as he pulled the thread tight. "Just can't seem to do it."

"Why not?" Helga asked sympathetically.

"What if she says no?" he said, looking up for a second before returning to Helga's hand.

"Then don't ask her out, just tell her how you feel. She can't say yes or no to that, can she?" Helga said, feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite.

"Not that easy though, is it Helga?" the doctor said as he tied off her stitches. He smiled at her.

"How did you...?" she asked, amazed.

"Not being big-headed, but you're the first nine year old girl I've ever treated who didn't make eyes at me. You must have them on a different prize," he said jabbing his thumb to the direction of the waiting room.

"Yeah, well, all that doesn't matter now, Bob's shipping us all overseas to live," Helga sighed.

"You going to tell him before you go?" the doctor asked, and Helga just shrugged. "Right, well, you're all done. On your way out make sure you stop at the reception desk to book an appointment in three weeks. Take care Helga," he said, helping her down from the bed.

"Thanks Doc," she said, smiling as she left.

-

"Is the girl going to be long?" Bob asked as Arnold sat back down.

"Maybe, they couldn't find her medical records," Arnold answered, avoiding Bob's gaze.

"Why the hell not?" Bob shouted.

"Because you gave them the wrong name. Her name is Helga, H-E-L-G-A," Arnold said pointedly.

"Oh," Bob grunted, not caring an ounce. Minutes of silence flew between them, Bob still reading his magazine and Arnold figeting in his chair, getting angrier by the second. Bob began to tap his foot rhythmically on the floor, which just annoyed Arnold further. He squirmed in his chair.

"Ants in your pants boy?" Bob snarled. Arnold ignored him. "Come on Olga, we're missing the wheel," he whined. Arnold snapped. He jumped to his feet and rounded on Big Bob.

"HELGA! HER NAME IS HELGA! If you weren't so obsessed with your other perfect daughter you might notice how remarkable Helga is too! But you're not, YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT OLGA, BEEPERS AND YOURSELF!" he yelled, panting, just as Helga came round the corner. She had heard the last few words of Arnold's rant as she was making her appointment. Bob got to his feet and grabbed her cut hand, making her wince and flooding her eyes with tears.

"Ow, Dad watch it," she pleaded, trying to pull her hand away, but Bob's attention was caught on Arnold.

"Come on Olga, we're going!" he shouted very loudly, making everyone look at him.

"But Dad, what about Arnold?" Helga asked as she was dragged past him.

"He can get the bus! And I never want to see you hanging around with that brat again!" He dragged Helga out through the automatic doors, leaving Arnold looking very stunned in the busy emergency room. He shook his head to clear it and then strode out to the bust stop, his rage still fierce and blood pounding in his ears.

-

**A/N: I know this one's been a long time coming considering how fast I usually churn them out, but reality demanded I participate in it for a little while. Hopefully it's a nice long one to make up for it, and the next update will be up soon (I hope!) - Sky.**


	11. Bad Plans And Good Intentions

**Chapter 11 – Bad Plans And Good Intentions**

Helga sat silently in the back of the car on the drive home. She looked down at her freshly stitched hand. Now that her light-headedness was gone it was starting to throb quite painfully. She gingerly ran her fingers along the stitches. Her thoughts remained on Arnold, and the look on his face as her father had pulled her away from him. She still suffered from the despair she had felt when her father had forbidden her to see him anymore. Tears welled up in her eyes; she was not brave enough to disobey her father. Had today really been the last time she would ever speak to him?

The car came to a shuddering halt and Helga unbuckled her seat belt and got out. She followed Bob up the steps, aware that he was avoiding speaking to her or even looking in her direction, but she was too consumed by her own thoughts to care. Bob pulled the door open and walked inside, immediately sitting down in his armchair and switching on the television. Helga just wanted to be alone.

"Hey hey, where are you going little lady?" Bob grunted, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"To my room," Helga replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Just a second," Bob growled. "I meant what I said about that boy. You don't see him outside of school, and when you are at school you don't say a single word to him. You got that?"

"Yes dad," she whispered.

Helga sighed and went to her room. She threw herself onto her bed and pulled her soft pink pillow over her eyes. Half of her wanted to cry, but the other half wouldn't let the tears come. She had barely been there a few minutes when the phone rang. She sighed and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Helga?" It was Phoebe. Helga smiled.

"Hey Phoebes," Helga said in a weary voice.

"Helga, are you ok? Arnold phoned and told me what happened. How's your hand?" She sounded very anxious.

"Oh, you know, it stings a little but it's nothing I won't live through," Helga said, trying to calm her friend's fears. "Um, did Arnold tell you anything else?"

"No, only that you were hurt and he accompanied you to the hospital," Phoebe said, interested. Helga launched into the entire story of Arnold's showdown with Big Bob, and Phoebe was the perfect audience. She 'awwed' when Helga told her of Arnold staying to help with the dishes, she sucked air through her teeth when Helga described cutting her self, and she gasped when Helga told her of Bob's last words to her regarding Arnold. Helga sighed.

"And that's how bad Monday was, can't wait for Tuesday."

"Oh Helga, that's terrible," Phoebe said sympathetically. She was bothered, however, by Helga's omission of what happened before she had cut herself, when Arnold had asked Helga how she he felt about her. Many of the kids had just wanted to see what happened to Arnold, but Phoebe was worried, and a little excited about what would happen to Helga. Although it went against everything Phoebe felt might transpire, she half hoped there would be some very good news regarding Arnold on Helga's part.

"What is it?" Helga said, perfectly reading the distance in Phoebe's voice.

"Oh… nothing…" Phoebe said, twirling her phone cord between her fingers. She knew it wasn't safe to ask. Helga still had secrets from her, the same way Phoebe didn't tell her everything.

Helga did pick up on it, very well in fact. She knew what Phoebe had really called for, but she took a strange comfort in the fact that she didn't have to tell her. She didn't have to tell anyone that it was twice now she had denied having feelings for Arnold.

-

Helga's alarm woke her the next morning, as did a wave of nausea. She ran to the bathroom with her slippers half on and emptied her already void stomach down the toilet. She rinsed her mouth and crawled back to her bedroom, and it wasn't long before Miriam was at her door.

"Helga… are you… alright?" she mumbled, straightening her glasses. Helga held her stomach and didn't say a word. The cut on her hand was stinging terribly, and she was certain it was that which was making her feel sick. Miriam sighed. "Maybe you… shouldn't go in today."

Helga smiled weakly. That would be perfect for her. She could avoid her classmates and take some time to feel better. She lay back down on her bed and closed her eyes, and sleep took her before she even had the chance to think about it.

-

The class of PS118 immediately had their suspicions aroused by Helga's absence that day. Whispers flew through the classroom like paper aeroplanes and the class settled down at their desks, and almost ever single pair of eyes was fixed upon Arnold. Arnold had noticed, but was choosing to ignore it. Something nagged in the back of his mind about what Helga had said regarding Rhonda, and until Arnold knew what it was, he wasn't going to tell anyone anything. He did not know that Rhonda had confessed her lie to the rest of the class.

"Hey Arnold," Stinky drawled. "How'd it go with Helga yesterday? Did she beat your face in?" He laughed in his pleasant country way, backed up by Sid and Harold.

"I don't know Stinky," Sid snorted in between laughs, "he doesn't seem to have any bruises. Maybe she smothered him with kisses instead!" This was followed by a unanimous burst of laughter from the whole class, even Phoebe smiled a little. It was funny to think of Helga showering Arnold with that kind of affection. Phoebe knew, however, that if Helga had been seated behind her desk there would be no talk of any such kind.

Arnold blushed a deep pink. "Aw look, isn't that sweet?" Rhonda said in a high-pitched voice. "He misses her so much he's gone the same colour as that stupid bow of hers!" The girls in the class, minus Phoebe, all shrieked with laughter, while the boys made soppy kissy faces. Despite the fact that his mind was very much elsewhere, Arnold couldn't help but notice that Lila was laughing very hard at Rhonda's comment. He frowned at her.

Gerald was looking at his friend with an expression of worry. Arnold had neglected to phone him the previous night, too lost in his own thoughts but ever the do-gooder he had remembered to phone Phoebe. He also knew that Rhonda's words were a lie, but Arnold had marched into the Pataki household unaware of this vital information. It was clear to Gerald that Arnold had not been harmed during his confrontation with Helga, but now that he was starting to develop the reputation of being her sweet thing, his social standing was likely to take a severe bashing. _Say something Arnold, anything_, he urged in his mind.

"You were gone an awful long while Arnold, whatever were you doing?" Lila said prissily, trying to egg him on. The colour of his cheeks turned from pink to red as the embarrassment transformed into anger.

"For your information," he began calmly, addressing the whole class, "Helga had to go to hospital, and I went with her." The entire class gasped. Phoebe smiled. It was a clever trick. They both knew that Helga hadn't been seriously hurt, but by telling everyone she had gone to hospital, coupled with the fact that she wasn't in school today, they would cease the mockery and maybe even feel ashamed.

"Oh no," Sheena said. "Is she alright?"

"She cut herself pretty badly and had to have stitches," Arnold said quietly. The class were clearly relieved that she was not too badly hurt, but obviously infuriated that there was a perfectly innocent explanation for everything. Not one to be defeated, Rhonda blundered on regardless.

"But when she gets back I have no doubt you two will be walking around holding hands in the corridor and fawning over each other on the bus," she said dangerously.

"Oh come on Rhonda, you know it's not like that!" Arnold snapped. "And besides, her dad won't let her hang around with me anymore." Gerald groaned and Phoebe slapped her hand to her forehead. Just when it looked like he might get off unharmed as well. Rhonda grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Doesn't want you touching his little girl, huh?" Rhonda said, laughing and turning to the front of the class.

Arnold couldn't find his voice to explain at all.

-

At lunchtime Arnold and Gerald sat by themselves on a table tucked away in the corner of the cafeteria. Arnold wasn't eating anything, just holding his head in his hands while Gerald reassured him that everything would be fine once Helga was gone. Arnold rubbed his eyes and looked as his best friend.

"I think I might actually miss her a little bit," he whispered very quietly, desperate for no one to overhear him.

"Miss her!" Gerald shouted, dashing Arnold's hopes. The whole room turned to look at them, and they both blushed. "Sorry man," he said, lowering his voice. "But why?" Arnold shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Gerald was his best friend, he did tell him everything, at least under normal circumstances. But he had come to the conclusion that these weren't normal circumstances.

Last night, Arnold had lay awake for hours thinking about the days events. It scared him a little to find that he was very reluctant to let Helga go to England with things the way they were. More than once he had been told he was too much of a goody-goody, always poking into everyone else's business and trying to make the world a better place. He wanted to help Helga, making sure she had something to hold on to when she got to England. But before, when it was helping Chocolate Boy or Monkey Man, it had been simple.

Making the bond between Helga and her father something credible was not.

"Loose ends that... need to be tied..." he said vaguely, and yet still expected no questions from Gerald. Of course, he was sorely disappointed.

"What are you talking about man?" Gerald said, genuinely bemused. Arnold wasn't sure he could explain, and he knew he didn't want to even try.

"Helga and…her dad," Arnold finally said, making it clear that he would say no more to explain. Gerald clearly recoiled in his seat.

"Geez man, there's a bombsite I wouldn't even try to chance near," Gerald said, and it was there the conversation ended. Sure, both boys were used to facing the problems of adults, but they were not accustomed to discussing them with one another. Arnold's mind was made up and Gerald was subconsciously wishing him all the best, and with those barriers broken the boys reverted back to their usual talk of school and baseball.

However, the subject of Helga and her father was never far from Arnold's mind, and he was determined to help them both. He was going to turn break down the barriers that separated them, just as soon as he found out what they were.

-

The majority had been wondering at lunch why Rhonda had left Arnold alone for the whole hour. If only their focus had actually been on Rhonda, instead of Arnold, they would have been wondering where she _was _at all.

As the rest of the school trudged to the cafeteria, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd tiptoed to the janitor's closet, nabbing a very confused yet delighted Curly on the way.

"In!" she barked, whilst throwing Curly roughly through the door and not giving him much choice. She followed sedately after, shutting the door with a gentle click and switching the light on. "Right, you are going to do me a little favour, lover boy," she purred.

Curly was visibly salivating. "Anything for you Rhonda," he gushed.

"That's the spirit, hunk-o-matic," she said scathingly, rubbing her hands together in a very sinister way. She pressed a hand to his mouth as she heard the rush of kids going past in the corridor. Then she leaned closer and began whispering into his ear. "Ok Curly, here's the plan…"


	12. A Class Divided

**Chapter 12 – A Classroom Divided**

After lunch the class shuffled back to their desks, still buzzing with rumours and gossip. Mr. Simmons, however, was missing his usual cheery demeanour and that seemed to affect everyone.

"Ok class, I have a very special assignment for you. It's not really homework, and it most definitely isn't compulsory, but I would like it very much if we could all get together to make a leaving gift for Helga," he said in a simpering tone. Though he wasn't meant to discriminate, Helga was one of his favourite students. In class she seemed just like any other pushy nine year old, but when she handed in her English assignments he was always pleasantly surprised. Her talents always kept him amused when he was forced to stay behind very late, marking papers well into the night. Her creative writing enchanted him, and he always hoped to see her in her older years, an accomplished writer, signing her novels at Waterstones.

"Phoebe, I wonder if you have any ideas on what Helga would particularly enjoy." Phoebe looked to the sky, thinking.

"Um, well, she is very… uh," Phoebe was a little more than hesitant about revealing anything about Helga's sensitive side to the whole class, especially when Helga wasn't there. "She likes, um, music?" she chanced. There was no way she was going to betray Helga's reputation behind her back.

"Excellent!" Mr. Simmons exclaimed. His eyes darted to Arnold, who had many an idea planted in his head as to what they could do for Helga, but he wasn't going to volunteer any of them. No one needed to think that she was on his mind any more than she should have been.

"How about a mixed tape?" Phoebe said, wanting to get it out of the way and get Helga as far from everyone's heads as possible.

"A tape…" Rhonda said quietly, almost to herself.

"Splendid!" Mr. Simmons said, his cheerfulness seeming to have made a full recovery. "Everyone, if you bring in one song that reminds you of Helga in the coming weeks, I will be more than pleased to combine them all on one special CD for Helga!" That out of the way, the class settled down to work, grumbling about Helga, or thinking about what song they could find. Arnold's mind raced, he really had no clue.

-

Helga was feeling decidedly better as the day drew to a close, and this was improved even further by Phoebe checking in to see her after school, bringing with her the gift of the latest issue of Wrestlemania Magazine. The thought of Bob's orders still tormented her in the back of her mind, but as it was she was choosing not to think about it. Phoebe sat at the edge of her bed, smiling sweetly.

"Ok Phoebes, spill it," Helga said, finally setting the magazine aside.

"What? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Phoebe began, sweating with anxiety. Helga raised her eyebrows. "Honestly, I don't know what you mean…" Helga didn't drop her gaze. "Ok, everyone thinks you and Arnold are an item!" she confessed, the relief obvious in her expression. "Everyone's been talking about it all day at school."

"Talking about it?" Helga shrieked. This was her worst nightmare realised, and it had happened so quickly she hadn't even seen it coming.

"Well… mocking it."

"Mocking it!" she screeched, climbing out of her bed. Phoebe watched as she pranced up and down her room.

"It's not really that big a deal is it?" she said slyly. "I mean, it's just a silly rumour." Helga's eye narrowed.

"Yeah… but… well, I don't need that kind of attention!" she said, scowling. Her mind was doing laps, this was all wrong. It inspired horrible feelings in her; this was cheapening her love for Arnold surely, if everyone could treat it as a schoolhouse joke. Add to that the amount of mockery she was going to have to smile sweetly through and her last few weeks in Hillwood were going to be torture.

"Well, what are you going to do about it Helga?" Phoebe asked, admitting defeat for now in getting Helga to open up to her. Helga thought for a moment.

"Well, I don't see why I have to do anything about it. Didn't Football Head tell everyone how very wrong they were?"

"Well, he did try, but you know what Rhonda's like…" Phoebe said, biting her tongue in attempt to not speak ill of her classmate.

"Rhonda," Helga growled, balling her fists. "That interfering little co-"

"Now now Helga, let's not say anything too drastic," Phoebe said sweetly. Helga took a few deep breaths and sat down on the bed next to Phoebe, not wanting to explode her temper in front of her best friend. Helga was meant to be the epitome of 'thick-skinned', she couldn't let Phoebe see how much this was getting to her.

"I'll just ignore here Phoebes, I don't really have time to worry about what Princess is up to." Phoebe smiled at her friend, even if it was just to stop herself crying. Every time Helga mentioned how long she had left in Hillwood, Phoebe felt totally miserable "Look, never mind all that. What do you say we get some popcorn from downstairs and watch us some movies?" Helga continued, determined to make her friend feel better. Phoebe nodded happily, and accompanied Helga downstairs to fetch the snacks.

-

Helga reluctantly went to school the next morning, fearful of what awaited her when she arrived. As she expected, snide comments and hushed whispers pursued her through the halls, and Helga found time to scoff at how riled up such a small thing was getting everyone, despite feeling thoroughly miserable about it herself at the same time.

She took up her usual seat behind Arnold as class began, the remarks temporarily silenced by lessons. Spit balls seemed to be the call of the day, she didn't want to be seen as placing Arnold on any kind of newly revealed pedestal, but as she looked down at the stitches in her hand for the hundredth time that day, it just didn't seem fair.

Helga may have had the temperament of a scowling bully on the outside, but on the inside she was very emotionally mature, something she suspected was a result of how independent she had made herself from an early age. She knew that children in groups would always fall into their respective places. The bullies, the jocks, the princesses and the taunted. To make the transition from one to the other could be mentally scarring, or, on the other hand, a tremendous ego boost. However, it was not usual for one to rise up the social ladder once your place had been defined, and it was very uncommon for a bully to lose that place at all.

Helga was at a crossroads in her mind. She was being forced to make the decision she had so well avoided all her life. Would she be a bully, a poet, or a stupid girl with a stupid crush? The strips of paper remained untouched on Helga's desk, as she realised that not only would her conscience not allow her to pepper Arnold with the sticky mush, but she was certain the rules of the bet wouldn't be too wild about it either. Glancing to her side she saw Phoebe attempt to give her a supportive smile, but there was so much pity in it that Helga just groaned and dropped her head down onto her desk.

As soon as Mr. Simmons had set his fourth grade class enough work to last them for the rest of the lesson, the kids found themselves free to talk amongst themselves, and everyone's mind was still on a particular subject. Arnold, however, saw it as a great opportunity to finally get around to speaking with Helga, his determination not dented by his best friend's look of abject terror upon hearing his plans. "Hey, Helga," he whispered, turning around in his seat and well aware of the fact that everyone was desperate to eaves drop on his conversation with his 'girlfriend'. Helga didn't look up from her paper.

"Hey Helga, can we talk?" he urged. Helga maintained her silence. "Helga?" he chanced again. Her head shot up.

"Look football head," she hissed, so quietly that although people knew she was talking to Arnold they couldn't make out the words, "I'm not supposed to talk to you, remember?"

"Even at school!" Arnold shrieked, dumbfounded.

"Even at school," Helga replied, and put her head back down. Arnold realised it was useless and turned back to his work.

Neither of them noticed Curly giving Rhonda a small thumbs up across the classroom.

-

At recess Helga was forced to sit out of the game of kickball for the first time since she could remember. Her sporting prowess was one of the few things her classmates admired her for, and now she wasn't even getting to show that off. Arnold was the one calling all the shots, and Helga was doing her best to avoid him. Her paranoia that her father would somehow find out reigned supreme, and even her desire for Arnold couldn't make her cross that line.

It seemed that Arnold, however, held absolutely no weight with Big Bob's threat.

"Hey Helga," he called, coming to sit next to her on the wooden bench and shaking Helga from her thoughts. She glanced around wildly, hoping that no one was watching.

"What do you want?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

"I want to talk to you," Arnold said simply.

"Yeah, well, you can't bucko!" she said as loud as she dared to, and was more than relieved when Arnold was called back to the game. She closed her eyes and sighed. Why was she so afraid of something so stupid? Why was she letting Bob interfere in her last few months with her precious Arnold? _Because you're scared_, a voice said in the back of her mind. _Bob's given you a perfectly good reason to not have to tell him_. She shook her head angrily. She hated the way her conscience was right all the time.

She was distracted from her thoughts by a faint clicking sound coming from behind a dumpster. She got to her feet to investigate, glad of something to take her mind off of things. The clicking turned into a slight mechanical whining as she neared, and she saw the feet of someone sitting against the dumpster. She recognised the stripy red and white socks at once.

"Curly?" she asked the hunched figure as she stepped behind the dumpster. Curly jumped, almost dropping the small black box he had concealed in his hands. "What are you doing?"

"What? Nothing! Go away!" he yelled, and Helga stepped back a little.

"Right…" Helga said slowly, glancing at his hands. Curly followed her line of sight and pulled the box closer into his chest, bending over it and obscuring it from view. "Don't worry Curly, I'm not going to touch your Walkman," she said reassuringly. Curly had always been a source of amusement for Helga, she was going to miss his special brand of craziness. "I'm not allowed to be mean, remember?"

"Uh, yeah, right…" Curly said with a small laugh as he got to his feet. "Anyway, gotta go!" he said, and he bolted for the entrance to the school.

"That is one messed up kid," Helga said to herself, scratching her head and returning to the bench to wait out the rest of recess.

-

For the next lesson Mr. Simmons decided to go against his lesson plan and get them all together to do a music project. The class shuffled into small groups, groaning and already sensing their oncoming headaches. Helga rolled her eyes as Mr. Simmons typically put her in a group with Arnold, his attempt at trying to get them talking again, not aware of what it was causing the friction. For good measure he also added Sheena and Curly to their little quartet, something which seemed to please Rhonda no end.

"I guess she's just glad the shrimp's off her tail for an hour or so," Helga muttered under her breath.

"What was that Helga?" Arnold asked, but Helga just turned her back to him and kept her mouth shut. Arnold sighed heavily.

"Oh, Sheena, would your group mind going down to the resource room and picking up the instruments?" Mr. Simmons said sweetly.

"Not at all," Sheena replied in an equally sugary voice. Arnold and Curly got their feet at once, but Helga groaned and flopped her head down on her desk, before pushing her chair out with a slow, screeching sound.

"What's the matter Helga?" Sheena asked.

"Oh, I'm just not in the mood," Helga said quietly, with a horrible forced smile. The small group walked down the halls in a line, Helga and Arnold on opposite ends. Curly was running about like a little boy, shrieking and laughing and disturbing all the other classes. Helga noticed how he never took his beady eyes off of her.

The room where the school kept all its musical instruments, art supplies and drama props was small, dark and cramped. And to many it was a safe haven, a place to get away from class for a little while and play with the sequins and glitter, making even more mess that no one would notice. On any other day Helga would have loved to be in this room with Arnold. Everything in there tingled with the ghosts of days gone by; plays that would never again be acted, xylophones that would never again play _that tune_, pictures that would never again be painted.

It inspired a romance in Helga that she couldn't explain. Some magic that awakened deep within her, opening the gateway to all that creativity she held inside. She had fantasised on many an occasion that she would find herself in this dark room with Arnold one day, and it would be here that she would confess her love to him. Maybe, just maybe, the magic that affected her here would get to him too.

She slammed the door behind her and a layer of dust fell down from the ceiling. She snorted. "Welcome to reality, Helga ol' girl."

"Here Helga, you take this box of cymbals," Arnold said, handing it to her.

"Sure," she said without thinking.

"See, you _can_ talk to me," Arnold replied with a small laugh. Helga gasped.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean to," she snapped, making sure Sheena wasn't listening. Curly had long since disappeared into a rail of eighteenth century costumes and no one had seen him since.

"Look, Helga, your dad isn't going to find out if we just talk, is he?" Arnold said pointedly.

"Why do you even want to talk to me anyway, football head?" Helga had long since given up being nice to Arnold when she was only in his company. She knew he wasn't about to tell anyone what happened between them.

"I want to make things better for you… for when you, you know, when you go."

"Better for me?" Helga said, genuinely confused.

"Yeah, between you and your dad… you know…" Arnold was treading lightly. This was a very emotional subject to be touching upon with a girl famous for her lack of feelings and love of punching.

"That's none of your business Arnold-o!" she hissed, just like Arnold had expected her to.

"Jeez Helga, I was just trying to help," Arnold said simply.

"Oh, you're always just trying to help!" Helga snapped back, and immediately regretted it. Something clicked in her mind.

_"He's taking you to England, isn't he?" Arnold reminded her sweetly. She gritted her teeth._

_"He has to football head!" she shouted at him. "He's got no choice!" Arnold recoiled. She wanted to apologise but she didn't see the point._

_"Jeez Helga, I was just trying to help!" he yelled at her. Helga was shocked. She'd never seen Arnold get mad before._

_"Oh you're always just trying to help!" she roared, and then immediately covered her mouth. That was a little too below the belt, even for her._

Helga never believed before that dreams could come true. Arnold looked down at his hands. _This is where he tells me he's glad I'm going_, Helga thought sadly. But he did no such thing. It looked as though he was searching through his mind for something to say but he kept coming up empty.

"I'm sorry Arnold," she whispered. "It's just Bob and me, we're never gonna get along. Not until he can be more like a father and I can be more like Olga. I can try my hardest to be perfect _like_ her but I'm never going to _be_ her. I can only be me, and Bob just isn't proud of Helga G. Pataki." Arnold's heart felt like breaking. It was one thing not to know your parents at all, but quite another to have them ignore you like _you_ were the one who wasn't there.

"I just can't believe he could be like that to you, you're his daughter," Arnold whispered.

"Yeah, well here's a newsflash bucko. Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows. Bad things happen to good people, and in my case they happen to bad people too."

"You're not a bad person," Arnold said genuinely.

"Guys, we should be getting back before Mr. Simmons sends out a search party," Sheena reminded them gently. Helga and Arnold begrudgingly agreed, and Curly did reappear after some calling of his name. He emerged from the dresses looking sheepish.

"Let's go," he said quickly, leading the way.

-

The class soon got busy making a hideous racket. There were only three students in the fourth grade class of PS118 who had any musical talent, and while Phoebe, Eugene and Lila made beautiful sounds, the rest of the class drowned them out with their din. Helga had retreated back into herself when they had got back to class, folding her arms as soon as she sat down and not looking up even once. Arnold and Sheena quickly became totally absorbed in writing their piece of music, both wanting to improve in something they were quite shaky at. None of them noticed that Curly had snuck away to join Rhonda's group.

"Alright class," Mr. Simmons shouted over the noise, "that's enough! Please go back to your regular seats now, thank you." A great shuffling ensued as instruments were put back in boxes and chairs were scraped along the floor. Helga sat at the back of the class as usual, Phoebe trying to give her a cheerful smile as she sat in the seat next to her.

"Are you ok Helga?" Phoebe asked, but Helga couldn't even lift her head off her arms to respond.

"Oh, she won't be!" Rhonda cackled suddenly, grabbing everyone's attention. "Not when her daddy hears this!" In her hand she was holding a cassette tape. Helga raised her eyebrow at it.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Oh, just a little tape Curly made for me documenting all the naughty conversations you had with Arnold today. But oh my, I thought you were banned Helga? Whatever will your father say when Curly delivers this to him after school?" She laughed in a high pitched voice as Helga got to her feet.

"Actually Rhonda I-" began Curly, but Helga cut him off.

"What? No! You can't!" she yelled, tears flooding her eyes.

"I think you'll find I can," Rhonda said in a sing-song voice. She looked over at Gerald, who, even though he didn't agree with what Rhonda was doing was forced to nod. "Ha!"

"Please Rhonda," Helga begged, feeling foolish. The class was astounded; they'd never seen Helga looking so small.

"Come on Rhonda that's really unfair," Arnold said, hoping she would listen to him. Rhonda just stuck her nose in the air.

"Ha ha ha! Helga's finally going to get what she deserves!" Harold butted in, laughing in a moronic way. Rhonda smiled at him.

"I gotta say Rhonda, don't you think maybe you're going too far?" Stinky drawled. "Y'know, getting parents involved and everything?"

"No. I do not," Rhonda said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Rhonda should be allowed to do whatever she wants," Lila said suddenly, taking everyone by surprise and looking a little surprised herself. Rhonda positively beamed. She loved hearing people say she should be allowed to get away with murder.

It wasn't long before the classroom was in uproar, people taking sides and shouting at each other. Some, like Stinky, were thinking of how nice they had known Helga to be, and how sad she was looking now. Sid was thinking of how she had threatened Big Gino that very morning on his behalf, despite the fact that everyone knew threatening Big Gino was not a thing you could ever do safely. Unless, of course, you were leaving the country some time soon. And Eugene was thinking about how she had helped him improve his baseball swing recently, coaching him after games. She said it was for the sake of the team, but now Eugene was starting to think otherwise.

Others were, however, decidedly sided with Rhonda. Nadine was regretfully stuck to her best friend's side and Harold had never really warmed to Helga. Lila was also on Rhonda's side rather fiercely, she was acting very out of character in everyone's opinion.

"Face it Helga," Rhonda said smoothly. "You're going down!" Helga felt her blood boiling.

"Look, Rhonda, I will tell you one last time," she said through gritted teeth. "My dad never hears that tape, you got it?"

"Ha!" Rhonda said, examining her nails. "You can't do anything to stop me."

"Oh I can!" Helga screamed, and before anyone knew what had happened she had lunged forward and grabbed Rhonda by her shirt, Old Betsy pressed up against the Princess' chin.

"Helga no!" Arnold yelled, but was well aware of the fact that he wasn't making any real attempt to stop her. Phoebe ran to Helga's side.

"Helga you really shouldn't-" but she recognised the fire in Helga's eyes. She looked at Gerald, who was looking right back at her, his stare wild as if to say; _do something_. Phoebe had to break the tension somehow…

SLAP!

Rhonda staggered back from Helga now that Helga had let go of her shirt in astonishment. A pink patch was appearing on Rhonda's cheek where Phoebe had hit her, and Phoebe herself was now looking down at her hand as though it wasn't her own.

"Phoebe!" Rhonda shrieked. "Oh, I demand justice!" she cried. Gerald shrugged.

"Strike two," he muttered, feeling defeated. For a supposedly unbiased judge he was very much on Helga's side. At that moment the bell rang to signal lunchtime and the class ran outside, glad to get away from each other for an hour.

"Way to go Phoebes," Helga said, smirking at her friend, who allowed herself a guilty smile.

-

As Helga and Phoebe sat at their table steadily eating their way through their lunches, the reality of what that tape could do was finally hitting Helga. She doubted that just because Rhonda had managed to get her on her last chance she would be changing her mind about delivering that cassette to her father. Helga needed to get that tape back, but she was going to need help. There were things that needed to be done that she couldn't do, or that would be her last chance out of the window. She would have enlisted Phoebe, but at that present moment her friend was falling to pieces over what she had just done. She looked across the cafeteria.

"Back in a minute Phoebes," she said, getting to her feet. Arnold and Gerald were, like everyone else, deep in conversation about what had just happened. She coughed to announce her presence.

"Hey Arnold, can I talk to you for a moment please?" she said politely.

"Sure thing Helga," Arnold said getting to his feet. She led him outside of the cafeteria to the drinking fountain. "What's up?"

"Let me get straight to the point," she said, grabbing his arm. "You said you wanted to help me right?" Arnold nodded.

"So help me tonight then."


	13. Espionage Of Our Own

A/N: yzibella – You raised a very good point in your last review. I guess what I should have pointed out is that Helga's 'nice' ways are only restricted to her classmates, and if being nice to them means threatening to beat up someone else then so be it. Or to look at it a different way – I made a bit of a cock up. Thanks for pointing it out yzibella and I hope this note has cleared things up.

Also I would like to take this opportunity to thank every one who has read and reviewed this story; you've all been very helpful and supportive. It's always easier to write knowing that people _actually_ want to read your works! So thanks again and here's chapter 13! Enjoy! –Sky.

**Chapter 13 – Espionage Of Our Own**

Small arguments broke out through the fourth grade class all afternoon, but surprisingly neither Helga nor Rhonda participated in any of them. Helga thought about snatching the tape from Rhonda before the afternoon was out and nipping this little problem in the bud, but she knew that Rhonda had it safely in her locker, and even if Helga could sneak out of class she could never get into that fortress.

Rhonda was not stupid enough to let her guard down for a second. She knew she was firmly in a place to gloat about how she had really done a number on Helga, but while the tape was still in her possession and not Big Bob's nothing was certain. There was also the nagging torment in the back of her mind that Curly would _not_ be going straight from school to the Pataki household. He had a ballet class that evening and it was not one he was willing to miss, so the tape would be stored in his gym bag for the duration. Rhonda absolutely refused to deliver the tape herself. She told Curly it was because she was above such matters, but in actual truth she was just terrified of what might happen to her if she ran into Helga while she was there. She had no qualms about Curly getting his face dented in though.

The bell rang and the class all got to their feet, the argument forgotten for the sake of getting out of school. The Jolly Olly Man did an excellent trade that afternoon, the sun was working overtime, and suddenly everyone decided it was too warm to be mad at each other and decided that they would rather go down to the docks to laze about for the evening. Rhonda went too, her confidence in Curly was shaky at best but then there was a reason she got other people to do her dirty work.

"Ok Curly, straight after the lesson you go to her house, ok?" she ordered, slipping the tape into his bag and glancing around to check no one was watching. Curly nodded and Rhonda joined the rest of the group on their way to the docks.

Helga, who had spent her life stalking and hiding from people knew exactly how to hide from Rhonda, who was terrible at trying to be secretive. Rhonda was so used to being the centre of attention that she couldn't even shy away from the spotlight when she was trying to be sneaky. She didn't notice Helga and Arnold waiting around the corner, watching her meeting with Curly, listening intently to what was being said. Helga furrowed her brow.

"What lesson?" she hissed at Arnold. Arnold knew that Curly took ballet but he had promised not to tell. He shrugged.

"Ballet." Obviously all this hanging around with Helga was rubbing off on him. She snorted.

"That freak show does _ballet_?" She couldn't keep the giggles out of her voice.

"Don't we have something more important to attend to?" Arnold reminded her.

"Right," she whispered.

There was only one place in Hillwood where a person could go to attend a ballet lesson. Madame Bouvier's Ballet School for Talented Girls and Boys. Arnold was surprised that Helga seemed to know exactly where she was going, and after receiving a fierce scowl from her she revealed that she had been there many times in her younger years to watch Olga's dance recitals.

"I'll have you know, Arnold-o, that I can be quite ladylike," she said, sneering and brandishing her fist in a very unladylike manner.

"Absolutely," Arnold agreed hastily.

They hid behind a low wall across the street, watching the entrance to the large grey building and waiting for Curly to show up. A large green car not unlike Phil's Packard pulled up to the front of the building and Curly climbed out, already in his leotard and tights, wearing a too large jacket to try and hide it from view.

"Ok, here's the deal. We'll get the bag when Curly is in his lesson. That's the only time he won't be around it," Helga whispered to Arnold as they crossed the road and followed Curly inside.

"Where will his bag be when he's in the lesson?" Arnold asked as they followed Curly down the hall, keeping to the shadows. He disappeared through a mirrored door and they waited for a second before pushing it open.

"I look psychic to you, football head?" Helga hissed as they peeked inside. Arnold's question was answered at once though as Curly set his bag down by the door and removed his jacket. Helga groaned. "How're we gonna get it from there?" she hissed despairingly. Arnold shrugged.

"Come on Helga, think," she muttered to herself. This was her area of expertise. What she needed was a distraction. "I've got it!" she said, snapping her fingers and quickly locating a store cupboard. "Come here," she whispered, grabbing Arnold's shirt and pulling him along. She threw open the door and her eyes lit up. "Get in," she said, and Arnold, feeling thoroughly confused, did as he was told.

She knelt down in front of him and rummaged through a box on the floor. "Helga, what are you doing?" he said, trying to peer over her shoulder. She merely ignored him and carried on searching, pulling out soft shoes and ribbons. "Aha!" she exclaimed suddenly, and pulled out a pair of pink tights and a black leotard. Arnold couldn't help but laugh.

"You're going to wear those?" he said, tears filling his eyes.

"No," Helga said with a sweet smile. "You are."

"Me!" Arnold shrieked. The smile never left Helga's face.

"I can't do it, he'll suspect. You just go in there, make with the conversation for a little while so I can grab the bag and then you can split. It's no big deal. Ten minutes tops, I swear."

"No way. Nuh uh. There is no way you're going to make me wear these tights!"

-

"I can't believe I'm wearing these tights."

Helga knew she had a lot of making up to do, but it had occurred to her that she didn't know how long the average ballet lesson lasted and time was slowly ticking away. She pushed Arnold through the door to Curly's class and waited outside for the signal.

Madame Bouvier was a formidable looking woman. Her blue rinsed hair was pulled into a tight bun and she had the athletic look about her of a woman who has never been out of shape, not even in her later years. She pursed her lips as Arnold staggered ungracefully in front of her class.

"And just 'oo might you be?" she asked in a raspy French accent.

"Um, I'm Arnold," he said nervously. She folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, sorry I'm late," he added lamely.

"Sorry I'm late _Madame_" she said sharply. "I do not usually accept students zis late in de course, and you 'ave not been in my class before, non?" She tapped her foot daintily and regarded him with a heavy dose of suspicion.

"I, er, transferred 'ere, I mean here, Madame," he said. She waved him off with a flick of her wrist, obviously not bothered with the whys or how comes. Arnold smiled and looked for Curly. Their eyes met through the sea of tutus and Curly smiled. Arnold went to stand at the bar next to him.

"Arnold! What are you doing here? I never knew you took ballet!" Curly exclaimed happily.

"Neither did I," Arnold muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Arnold said quickly. "So anyway Curly," Arnold said, switching sides so Curly was no longer facing the door, "still going strong at the ballet huh?"

"Um, yeah, still here. Look, Arnold, I just want to say that I don't mean to do anything bad to Helga, but it's Rhonda. Rhonda! You get that don't you?"

"Um, sure Curly," Arnold said, crossing his fingers, the signal that Helga should sneak in and grab Curly's bag.

"Ah, good," Curly said, stretching his leg out. Arnold copied him, remembering he was supposed to be a student too.

Helga pushed to door open wider and reached her arm around the frame, hoping she could get hold of the bag without actually having to set foot in the room. Her hands fell on his jacket and she whipped it off the bag in one quick motion. She paused, listening to see if anyone had heard or seen. A few seconds passed and nothing happened. Her eyes flicked to Curly. He was chatting to Arnold, pointing at his leg warmers and Arnold was feigning intense interest.

Helga smiled at her crush. Despite all the insults she had thrown at him over the years, all the well aimed spit balls that had landed in his hair, and all the times she had knocked him down in the street, he was still willing to dress up in ballet clothes for her and make a total fool of himself, just to save her skin. She shook her head, still smiling. Sometimes that boy was just too good to be true.

-

Meanwhile the kids down by the docks were growing bored with just sitting around. They were passing ideas back and forth between them, none of which appealed to anyone, not even those who suggested them.

"Sid, if you say 'frog fishing' one more time…" Rhonda warned, looking at her nails. Sid pouted but kept quiet.

"It's way too hot for baseball," Stinky drawled lazily.

"Hey Arnold," Gerald said smoothly, "what do you think?" The silence was enough to hear the crickets chirping. "Arnold?" Gerald said, looking around. He shrugged. "Guess he went home." Rhonda searched the group for both Arnold and Helga, and when she noticed they were both missing her mouth fell open.

"Are you alright Rhonda?" Nadine asked.

"Yeah, I've, uh, I've got to go," she said hurriedly, and with that she took off toward the ballet school.

-

Helga was stretching her arm as far as it would reach, but she still couldn't hook her fingers around the strap of Curly's bag. She pulled her arm back and growled. The only solution would be to dash in there, grab the bag and run out again, obviously taking Arnold with her. She took a deep breath and pushed the door wide.

The entire class jumped in shock as the door slammed against the wall and Helga darted in. She snatched the bag up onto her shoulder and looked at Arnold. "Come on, run!" she yelled. Arnold didn't need to be told twice. Ignoring Curly's puzzled look, he dashed across the studio and flung himself through the door towards Helga. They both took off toward the front entrance, Curly's bag slapping painfully into Helga's thigh with each step she took. She could see the street outside, they were almost home free.

Something caught on the bag and Helga fell to the ground with a painful bump. She looked up to see what had caused the accident and saw Rhonda standing over her, the gym bag swinging from her hand. "Going somewhere Helga?" she said in a whisper. Helga got to her feet but was careful to mind her temper. Arnold had also rejoined the scene now.

"Come on Rhonda," he said earnestly. "You're going too far with this. Why is it so important to you anyway?" Rhonda did a double-take when she saw what Arnold was wearing, but then she tried her best to make it look as though it hadn't fazed her. She let out a hollow laugh.

"Oh poor naïve Arnold," she began, now pacing back and forth in front of them. Arnold raised his eyebrow at her. "You'll never know what it'll be like to be snuffed out from everyone's memories," she sighed dramatically. "This summer's events have made sure of that. You'll forever be remembered as the boy who saved the neighbourhood. You're legendary Arnold." Here she fixed him with a cold stare. "And I'm not."

"Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was made to be the name on the tip of everyone's tongue. Everyone was meant to recognise my face, to want to get close to me, and yet, here we are. The opportunity for fame knocks on the door of another student from PS118, and that student still isn't me. And if that wasn't bad enough, it's Helga! Helga G. Pataki! She doesn't deserve that place on that Wall of Fame. I do. We all know it's true. I'm the one who's going to be legendary some day, but for that to happen I'm going to have to start early."

"What makes you so sure you'll get the space if I don't?" Helga asked.

"Ah Helga, you're so frightened of being forgotten, aren't you? I mean, that's why you're going to all this trouble with this ridiculous bet, just to get a place in everyone's head. But that's the funniest thing Helga, _you_ didn't have to."

"I didn't?"

"Of course not! As much as it pains me to admit it, you're pretty unforgettable. You've really made your mark on PS118. You're rude, you're a bully, no one really seems to like you that much-"

"Wow, I'll add that to my résumé," Helga said dryly.

"-but," Rhonda continued, ignoring Helga. "You stand up for us, especially in the face of fifth graders. You've always been the leader, and you've always insisted on wearing that stupid pink bow in your hair! You'll always be remembered, even if it is just for your accessories. And I, the most fashionable student in the entire school, will be second to the fact that you dress like a three year old."

Helga was stunned. She never thought people would remember her, but then she knew she had made the odd crater in people's memories with her antics. The float her father paid for, the comedy routine, the fact that she was, in general, someone you remembered to steer clear off on a bad day. She even contemplated feeling bad for Rhonda.

"But now, I'm going to take that indelible mark on the wall away from you and hand it to myself!" But then again…

"Rhonda look, if it means that much to you," Helga began, gently nudging Arnold's foot with her own, "why don't we both go on there? It has been all out war after all, both sides should be commemorated…" Rhonda put a thoughtful finger to her mouth and looked to the sky as Arnold inched ever closer to the bag.

"What the heck is that!" Helga yelled suddenly, pointing towards the entrance, and as Rhonda fell for the oldest trick in the book Arnold snatched the bag from her hand. He and Helga dashed for the door, determined to make it outside before Rhonda caught up to them. To their relief her path was blocked by a class that had just been dismissed. She screamed in outrage.

"Come back here!" she yelled, but her words fell on deaf ears.

-

Arnold and Helga arrived at the bus stop, choking out laughter now that the danger had passed. "Oh man," Arnold said, his cheeks flushed red, "I'm going to get so mocked for this tomorrow at school," he said, pulling at his leotard. Helga chuckled.

"Sorry man, I left your clothes in the supply cupboard," she said as the bus pulled up. They both climbed aboard, the bus driver giving Arnold a sideways look, and went to sit down. "Look Arnold. Thanks, I mean it. You really helped me out of a bad situation tonight."

"Any time Helga," he said, smiling. "Or should I say about time?" Helga raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Arnold shrugged. "It's about time I did something for you Helga," he said. "Before, you know…"

"Yeah, I know," she said softly. She could feel her eyes welling up. "Look," she said quickly. "Lets get that tape out and I dunno, eat it or something." They unzipped the gym bag and rooted through the crumpled up clothes and grubby sneakers in there until Arnold's hand found the cassette. He pulled it out and handed it to Helga.

"You want to do the honours?" he asked. She took it from him and immediately began attacking the tape, pulling the ribbon out in streams and scratching along it with her nails.

"Phew, now I feel a lot safer," Helga said, leaning back in her seat.

"I'll give this back to Curly tomorrow," Arnold said, putting the bag over his shoulder. The bus pulled up at Helga's stop and she stood up.

"I'll see you tomorrow then I guess football head," she said nervously.

"Hey wait. I wanna walk you home," he said sweetly. She smiled.

"Whatever floats your boat, just don't let Big Bob see you."

"Oh yeah," Arnold said. It had completely slipped his mind that Helga wasn't meant to be talking to him. They stepped off the bus and walked slowly down the street. The sun was beginning to set.

"Do you really have to go to England Helga?" Arnold asked sadly.

"Looks like," she whispered into the evening air. A silence passed between them. The earlier laughter had been forgotten and now they both just felt a little sad, remembering that times like these were times they would never have again.

"Oh, hey, look at this," Arnold said, trying to lighten the mood. He handed a gold heart-shaped frame to Helga, whose own heart began to race momentarily as she thought Arnold had gotten his hands on her locket again. She was relieved to see that in fact the frame held a picture of Rhonda. She turned it over. There was an inscription on the back.

"I will love you always, my darling Princess," she read aloud. She shook her head and tossed the photo back into the bag.

"It's sort of sad, isn't Helga? He loves her so much and she never even looks his way. It must be horrible to love someone that much when they don't like you back." He sighed. "Oh well, see ya later Helga," he said, just as they arrived at her house. She watched his back until he had disappeared from her view, and then she plunged her had down her t-shirt and pulled a familiar checked shirt out. She bundled it up close to her face and breathed in its scent.

"Horrible is right, Arnold," she said quietly, and she let herself into her house.


	14. Sugar And Spice And Everything Nice

**Chapter 14 – Sugar And Spice And Everything Nice**

Rhonda had been awake for the best part of the night and when she staggered into school the next morning, it showed. The fourth grade class of PS118 had to look twice at this dishevelled version of Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd as she trudged up the corridors of the schoolhouse, dark circles under her eyes and her usually perfect hair unkempt and wild. She looked nowhere except dead ahead as she walked, not responding to the whispers that followed her, ignoring those with concerned words.

All she could think, feel, breath, and see was Helga G. Pataki. Her target was well and truly selected in her mind, and now it was seek and destroy. She had always known that Helga would be a tough nut to crack, but she never thought it would get to the point where _she_ was the one who was driven to distraction. Past experience had taught Rhonda that she could triumph where others failed without even breaking a sweat, and this Helga nonsense had spun her entire dynamic out of whack.

Helga was at that moment in time chatting to Phoebe quite pleasantly. The previous night's activities had left her feeling very uplifted, much to her surprise. Despite the fact that the evening ended on a low note, once Helga had had time to think it over she came to realise that not only had she bested Rhonda, but her relationship with Arnold had come along in leaps and bounds. It was with a quiet humour that Helga remembered that horrible prank she had pulled on Arnold, thinking it would drive a fierce wedge between them when in fact it had done quite the opposite.

She had slept peacefully that night, her face snuggled into her beloved's clothing and she had dreamed a very different sort of dream. She had been older, much older than she was now, nearing her eternal rest. And she had been happy. Though things in her life had not turned out exactly as she would of liked, (this she knew as instinct as her dream showed her no prophetic visions of the future), she knew that on the whole her life had been a happy one, and as she sat on the front porch of a home she didn't know, she slept for the last time with that thought on her mind.

When she had woken in the morning, she had felt conflicted by the dream. Was it right to be comforted by a dream about her own death? But still the peaceful feeling did not leave her as she walked to her best friend's house, and she decided to tell the dream to Phoebe who had taken an interest in dream analysis of late.

So absorbed was she by the conversation she was having, she did not hear Rhonda's thundering footsteps as she leaned against her locker.

"Pataki!" Rhonda shrieked in a high-pitched voice. Helga flattened her back against her locker in the face of Rhonda's maniacal tone.

"Um, yes?" she squeaked. She wouldn't say she was frightened; just very, very shocked.

"You aren't keeping to your end of the deal!" she roared. Now Helga had to admit to being a little frightened. Rhonda's nose was two inches from her own, and yet she was yelling at the top of her lungs.

"I'm… I'm not?" she said in a small voice.

"No!" she yelled. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the pair. Wisely, Phoebe had retreated to a safe distance, wanting to tug on someone's arm and beg them to step in, but neither her voice nor her feet seemed to be working anymore. "Nice acts! Do you hear me? Nice acts! What have you done that's nice, Helga, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Helga felt like her knees might give out any minute. This was very unlike Rhonda. The girl had snapped, she had gone crazy through _lack_ of power, and she just couldn't handle it.

"I, er, I…" Helga faltered. She had been hoping that no one had really noticed.

"She helped me out of a dustbin," Stinky drawled bravely.

"That was after she pushed you into it!" Rhonda hissed.

"And I paid for that!" Helga cut in, desperate not to lose her last chance. Rhonda looked to the floor and nodded slowly.

"Yes, yes you did…" she mused to herself. She bit her lip, before fixing Helga with her cold stare once more. "Look at me Helga! Look at me! I'm a mess! And it's all your fault! So… help me tidy myself up…" she said, smiling slyly.

"Say what?" Helga asked faintly.

"Be my… personal assistant for a while…." Helga opened her mouth at once to argue. "It'd be awfully _nice_ of you…"

"But…" Helga said pointlessly, as one look from Gerald told her that all was lost. She buried her head in her hands. There was that tired feeling again. It had become so much more familiar now she was filled with a rage she couldn't express and a love she didn't dare to. And then it hit her. If she was just to coast through this, not caring, not noticing the world around her and just doing what she was told, it should be living on easy street. After all, she had a pretty good imagination. If it could save her from the most boring of History lessons surely it could save her from this?

"Whatever you say Rhonda," she mumbled.

Rhonda's fist demand of the day was obviously to hide her. Her little outburst seemed to give her enough release to return her senses to her, and now that she saw how monstrous she looked she was horrified. Helga shielded her as she dashed to the girl's bathroom, still cursing Helga under her breath. Helga was finding it much more difficult to ignore Rhonda than she had hoped. Every single word was like a little thorn in her side, and they all sat in there, niggling at her and telling her that she really didn't have to put up with this.

Rhonda bent her head forward over one of the sinks and began viciously brushing her hair. "Helga, you really do drive me crazy you know!" she spat.

"Is this why you're going to so much trouble to erase me from everyone's minds?" Helga asked off-handedly.

"Too right it is. You're a mean, bullying, scowling creature, and why anybody would want to remember you is beyond me."

"Sounds like someone not a million miles from me," Helga said in barely a whisper.

"I'm nothing like you!" Rhonda shrieked, straightening up and turning around to face her. "I'm a giver. I actually _care_ about our fellow classmates. Who do you care about? No one except yourself I'm betting."

"Oh come off it Rhonda," Helga began bravely. "You don't care about them, you care about their support. You know that you're the Princess of the class and as long as you have idiots to back you up you don't care whose toes you tread on. You know I'll never bow down before you which is why you're stepping all over my feet right now!" Helga voice was barely a whisper, but her words were razor sharp.

"You don't know me Helga," Rhonda said, turning back to the mirror to finish her hair. Helga said nothing. Rhonda pushed her jacket into Helga's hands and left the bathroom, knowing that Helga would follow in her wake. Helga's mind was running a marathon. Did Rhonda really think she was as amazing as all that? Had she really deluded herself into thinking that what people felt for her was respect, not fear? Helga caught herself as she walked through the door to their classroom. If she didn't know better, she'd say she was feeling sorry for Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd.

-

"Four days," Helga mumbled into her turkey sandwich that lunchtime. "It's only been four days. That's not even a dent on two months, and I've already been covered in crap, sliced my hand open, been forbidden to talk to Arnold, broken into a ballet school and stolen Curly's bag. I don't think I can keep this up Phoebes."

"Don't forget being Rhonda's assistant," Phoebe said sweetly.

"How could I?" Helga growled, as Rhonda stomped up to their table as if on cue and snapped her fingers in Helga's face.

"Pataki!" she barked.

"Yes Rhonda?" Helga said dryly, forcing her face into a painful smile.

"Excuse me, say what?" Rhonda said stupidly, holding her hand up to her ear. Helga sighed.

"Yes Miss Lloyd?" Helga said tiredly. Rhonda smiled.

"That's better. Now, for lunch I would like a low fat yoghurt, an apple, and a tuna sandwich with no mayo. Well, go on then, go!" Helga had to bite her tongue. It was all she could do not to spin around and knock Rhonda flying across the cafeteria.

"And how do I get these items… Miss Lloyd," Helga said steadily through gritted teeth. Rhonda laughed.

"Oh, silly Helga, that's not my problem now, is it?" She gave a small, fake laugh and went to sit with Nadine.

"I'm going to kill her," Helga said quietly. "Stone dead."

"Surely it's not as bad as all that," Phoebe said gently, knowing full well that it was.

-

Much to Helga's surprise, she managed to not only finish Thursday off with out murdering Rhonda, but she also managed to struggle through Friday as well. The weekend could not arrive quickly enough for her. Two whole days without Rhonda breathing down her neck, demanding this and that while Gerald kept a watchful eye in the background. She woke up on Saturday morning and the relief washed over her as she realised it was her day off.

Smiling, she climbed out of bed, scratched her stitches and got dressed. She took great time and care brushing up her pigtails, wanting them to be perfect, enjoying the time with just herself for a little while.

If she was honest with herself, she knew it wasn't worth it. Just because her name was on a wall it didn't mean that people were actually going to look at it. She would be forgotten as soon as the sun started to fade her letters, (pink, in her mind). Why she was dragging herself through this torment she couldn't quite understand, but part of her knew. It was Arnold.

It was always Arnold.

If he thought she could be nice, and sweet, and kind and all the other things she had so long maintained she wasn't, maybe he would see something else in her that wasn't a bully. Maybe, when the time came to tell him how she felt, he wouldn't be looking at her the way he always had, and maybe he would understand why she did even if he couldn't love her back. Because she was going to tell him, she had decided, she was going to confess everything before she left.

"Olga!" Helga blinked. Pulled out of her trance she walked to her bedroom door and peered out. Her father was at the bottom of the stairs, yelling for her. "There's someone at the door! Olga! OLGA!"

"Coming Dad!" Helga hollered down the stairs, feeling the dread settle in her stomach. "Who is it!" she yelled. As if she didn't know. There was no answer so Helga trudged down the stairs and saw for herself. Rhonda, standing in her doorway and looking perfect. "You know, even PAs get the weekend off," she muttered.

"I'm not paying you though my dear so this is much more like slave labour." She gave Helga a wicked grin, and shutting the door gently behind her Helga accompanied Rhonda down the street.

"Did your father call you _Olga_?" Rhonda said cruelly. Helga blushed.

"He's easily confused… you know, he doesn't mean anything by it." Helga had no idea why she was defending her father to Rhonda. Possibly because out of the two she was forced to admit she preferred Bob just that little bit more.

"Right," Rhonda said disbelievingly.

"So, where are we going?" Helga asked, quickly changing the subject.

"The mall of course," Rhonda said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course," Helga repeated dully.

"I need you to carry my bags," Rhonda said as they walked through the automatic doors.

"Of course," Helga said again, narrowing her eyes.

-

Several hours later Helga was starting to understand what it must feel like to be a pack donkey. Rhonda had dragged her into every shoe shop, every jewellery store, and every fashion boutique and had bought herself a little bit of something from each one. With Big Bob having his own company, Helga had never exactly been wanting, but even she was astounded by the sheer extent of Rhonda's wealth. As Rhonda handed her yet another shoe box Helga wondered exactly how much of this stuff would ever again see the light of day, and how much of it would just be left to gather dust at the back of a forgotten closet.

"That's enough for today I think." Helga let out an audible sigh of relief. "But the class all decided to meet up and see a movie this afternoon, so it's to the cinema my dear assistant."

"Yes Miss Lloyd."

Helga reached the cinema ten steps behind Rhonda, the many packages she was carrying slowing her up no end. Helga barely had time to feel hurt that everyone was there, including Phoebe, and yet no one had thought to invite her before she was being shepherded inside to watch Evil Twin IX: Identical Fear. Lila's sweet country objections could barely be heard over the rabble of kids desperate to see the latest instalment. Helga sat on the end of the row, the seat next to her occupied by Rhonda bags which served to cut her off from everyone else. She sighed, and settled into her chair.

"Hey Sid, pass the popcorn," hissed Harold as the previews began flickering on the screen. Rhonda clapped her hands together suddenly, much to the annoyance of everyone else in the theatre.

"Helga! Get me some popcorn!" Helga was on her last nerve as it was. The cinema was hot, she was tired, and her famous short-temper was rattling the bars of it's cage quite fiercely.

"Get your own popcorn Princess," she hissed, well out of Gerald's earshot. Rhonda, however, was not so dainty.

"What did you say to me!" she screeched, and was met by the annoyed hushing of all the other patrons.

"I said you can get your own damn popcorn!" Helga replied sharply, still keeping her voice low. "And I'm not taking these stinking bags back to your house either! I've had enough!"

Phoebe had picked up on the argument now, but she was wisely keeping her mouth shut. She didn't want to draw Gerald's attention to Helga and Rhonda, and instead she sipped casually on her soda.

"You can't talk to me like that! It's against the rules!" Rhonda hissed.

"I've had it up to here with your rules!" replied Helga, performing a mock salute. Rhonda growled at her.

"Just you wait until Gerald hears about this!" she snapped.

"_Just you wait until Gerald hears about this_," Helga mimicked in an annoying voice.

"Helga you are impossible!" Rhonda said exasperated. "I so cannot wait to see the back of you!" That was a push too far. Helga reached down to Phoebe and pulled the soda cup from her hands. Before Rhonda could even raise an arm to protect herself she was drenched in what remained of Phoebe's Yahoo. Helga laughed openly, not caring anymore. She just didn't have it in her to be nice, not even for just two months, and she was giving up in style.

The whole class's attention was grabbed now. The movie churned on forgotten as everyone's eyes fixed on Rhonda, who was boiling with rage under her veil of soda. Helga had managed to silence her giggles by this point and was acting completely indifferent. An usher shuffled up the aisle behind her.

"Ahem," he coughed politely. All eyes turned to face him. "Yes, I must ask your party to leave young lady," he said, addressing Helga.

"What?" Helga said dumbly.

"You are causing a disturbance. Please leave," the usher said snootily. Helga turned back to the group and shrugged. As one they all got up from their seats and marched from the cinema, complaining loudly about the lack of refund.

The sun was still shining brightly outside and they all blinked wildly, trying to adjust from the darkness of the theatre. Rhonda wasted absolutely no time whatsoever. "Gerald!" she yelled loudly, wiping down her shirt.

"Yes Rhonda?" he said, knowing what was coming.

"Look at what she did!" she said, half in triumph as she pointed at her soaking clothes. Helga looked to her feet.

"Helga, did you do this?" Gerald asked suspiciously.

"I-" Helga began, but she was cut off.

"No, I did it," Phoebe said, stepping in and winking at Helga. Helga's mouth fell open.

"Really?" Gerald said, the suspicion in his voice growing ever present.

"Yes, I did." Phoebe looked very uncertain of herself, she was a terrible liar.

"Why?" Stinky asked. Phoebe panicked.

"Um, maybe because Rhonda was being mean to me and Phoebe, being the wonderful person that she is, just wanted to shut her up," Helga said sweetly, giving her best friend a grateful smile.

"I see…" said Gerald slowly. It was what passed for his shaky acceptance.

"So… I still have my last chance?" Helga asked hopefully. Gerald nodded.

-

Helga could still hear Rhonda's screams of outrage echoing in her ears as she walked Phoebe home that evening. The smile refused to leave her face. She had been spared one more day. It might be difficult for her, but she had a feeling she would be able to struggle through the next two months as long as she had people like Phoebe at her side. Of course, she has made Phoebe step down as her confidant. All that pressure of lying to the Princess could drive her over the edge. She had already slapped her and lied to her now, Helga didn't know how much more Phoebe or her social standing could take.

"Can't believe you took a fall for me Phoebes," she said, still beaming at her friend from the bottom of her stoop.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Phoebe said softly, stirring up a familiar guilt in Helga.

"What am I supposed to do without you?" Helga asked with a small laugh as Phoebe opened her front door.

Still smiling back at her friend, Phoebe just shrugged and went inside.

-

**A/N: I've finally managed to set up a working email address! It is in my profile, for those of you who might want to contact me in a moment of madness. Wow, next thing you know I'll be tidy, organised, polite and lovely. Ha! **

**Also, I know this isnt the most captivating of chapters but I have a character revelation planned for the next one, fingers crossed. Also, work on this story is to be stepped up a notch or three, as I am on a roll with the next few chapters right now. Thanks to everyone who has stayed with it thus far and a big thank you to everyone who reviewed. –Sky.**


	15. Lila's Little Secret

**Chapter 15 – Lila's Little Secret**

**A/N: This chapter's kind of focused, as on Monday I promised myself I would have it up today, even though it was hardly finished then (I decided to give it a total rewrite, so it's been a long time coming). I made this promise before what happened to the place that I live yesterday, and I've been in a sort of angry/sad/shocked mood ever since, but the big guy said we shouldn't let it stop us and a promise is a promise so I won't. Onward! –Sky.**

It was Monday morning, and Lila's hair dripped steadily down her back as she stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror of her vanity. She had pulled her clothes on without drying her hair first even though she knew she shouldn't, but she had been very distracted lately. She was now facing a daily battle with the ball of guilt that had taken up residence in her stomach since she had first concocted her little plan. Lila was never very good at lying or being sneaky, but she was very good at picking up on people's ways and if she was to get Arnold to stop noticing her, this would have to be the way she did it.

Getting Helga to voice the way she felt about Arnold was quite another matter, but at the moment Helga was not her concern. Lila liked Helga very much, she couldn't explain why, but then a lot of people had fallen under that spell of Helga's, much to their confusion but they would never deny it. There was just something about her you couldn't help but like when you felt it, but the problem was it was also something you would just have to miss when it was gone. This was Lila's parting gift to Helga, and though she knew she was doing it all wrong and maybe too subtly, it was all she had in her inventory.

Her hair was still wet as she braided it that morning, and she hoped that she wouldn't catch a chill from the strangely mild weather. She kissed her father on the cheek and gathered up her school books, before beginning a slow and thoughtful walk to the bus stop. Her thoughts turned to nerves as she played with the hem of her dress, dreading another day of being slightly mean. She would have tried harder and made it more obvious, but she hated doing it so much and it made her feel so bad. Of course, as soon as Helga was gone and Arnold no longer _liked her_ liked her, she would come clean with it, but until then she would continue steadily onwards, being pointlessly mean and despising ever second.

The bus pulled up with a squeak and a hiss, and the doors clunked open. Lila got on and flashed her pass at the driver, scanning the seats for her now customary seat next to Rhonda. Rhonda had taken quite a shine to Lila since it seemed that she was on her side in this whole thing, and though Lila liked Rhonda very much she couldn't help but think she had gone crazily overboard in her attempts to upset Helga.

"Hey Lila," Rhonda said, moving over a little in her seat to give Lila more room. Lila smiled and sat down.

"Good morning Rhonda," she said sweetly, smoothing down her dress.

"So, I had this thought last night, you know, about what I could do to finally push Helga over the edge. We all know how much she hates being embarrassed in front of everyone so I thought… Lila?"

Lila blinked and stared straight at Rhonda. Her head was still miles away. The bus rolled to a stop and the doors were flung open once more. Helga and Phoebe climbed on board and took their usual seats at the back of the bus, Helga obviously avoiding Rhonda's eyes. Lila sighed. She knew that Helga wasn't her biggest fan anyway, purely because of the way Arnold felt about her, but that wasn't her fault and she wished she could spend Helga's last weeks in Hillwood trying to get on her good side.

"Are you ok Lila?" Rhonda asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Lila lied quickly. "What was your plan?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Rhonda said. If she couldn't have full attention she didn't want attention at all. The bus continued on its way, students climbing on board with the usual grumpy Monday morning expression. Lila was thankful for this though; it meant that her dark and troubled features would be lost in the crowd. The bus lurched around another corner and to Lila's surprise, Rhonda stood up.

"Hey Helga!" she shouted to the back of the bus, pulling everyone from their stupor. Helga, instead of looking startled however, looked merely annoyed. She was getting used to Rhonda's onslaught now, and instead of being embarrassing and upsetting, it was now just predictable and a little boring.

"Yes, Rho-o-onda?" she said, stifling a yawn. Rhonda wasn't fazed at all by this. If anything it stiffened her resolve.

"Hope you're ready for another round today little girl because man, do I have plans for you!" She cackled in a witch-like fashion and sat back down, everyone caught between disbelief and admiration. As the most popular girl in the class, it was everyone else's job to adore whatever Rhonda did, even if they didn't agree with it. Rhonda jabbed Lila in the ribs with her elbow, still with an insane grin on her face. "She's totally gonna lose it today Lila," she said, laughing.

"Is she?" Lila asked sweetly, a vague attempt to ask for details so she could prepare herself accordingly.

"Oh yeah, and funnily enough, it's an idea she gave to me." Rhonda closed her eyes and leant back in her chair, not saying another word until they arrived at the school. The students shuffled off the bus in a dreary fashion, all of them wishing the day was over before it had even begun. They had but a few minutes to spare before the bell rang, shepherding them all inside. Taking up her usual seat at the beck of the class, Helga immediately hid herself under the lid of her desk, pretending she had lost something in its cavernous void and protecting herself from the stares that followed her everywhere these days.

An air of excited tension became ever noticeable over the class as more and more minutes passed and yet Mr. Simmons still hadn't showed up to teach. The air soon became thick with paper aeroplanes with hastily scrawled notes on their wings, and the space in between the desks was filled with panicked students who were very poor shots trying to retrieve their papers. Arnold and Gerald chose to remains seated, calmly discussing football tactics and Rhonda was suspiciously quiet, at least from Phoebe's point of view. Phoebe nudged Helga gently and pointed at Rhonda, who was bent over her desk very secretively, and scrawling something down, stealing glances at the students around her. Helga looked from Rhonda to Phoebe and then shrugged, and Phoebe saw it as the perfect opportunity to bring something up which she had been avoiding before.

"Helga, I was, um, that is to say, would you like to, um, well, in a few weeks time I'm having a slumber party at my house and I'd love it if you could be there." Helga raised her eyebrows at her petite friend. She had slept over at Phoebe's many times in the past so why was she being so skittish in asking her this time?

"Um, sure Pheebs, but why so jumpy?" she asked her friend in a whisper, this being one of the conversations she was sure Phoebe would rather wasn't shared with the rest of the class. Helga immediately regretted asking this question however, as her best friend's eyes welled up with tears.

"Because… you see… I know this time it's the… last…time," she said between sobs, the tears not yet falling but well on the verge. Helga bit her lip. Phoebe wasn't wrong, the move to England was still on the go ahead, and Helga was surprised she hadn't paid that much thought to it.

At her desk, Rhonda gave herself a satisfied smile and placed the piece of paper in her desk. She looked around the class for Curly, and saw him standing next to the goldfish bowl, contemplating the best way to free its happily swimming inhabitants. Once again she was going to need his help and once again he was going to give it to her. She didn't need him just yet however, so she left him alone to get on with it and turned to Lila.

"Hey Lila, woken up yet?" she asked in a teasing manner. Lila blushed.

"Oh yes, most certainly now," Lila said, smiling. Looking past Rhonda she could see that Arnold's eyes were on her, almost absent-mindedly, as though he had forgotten he was doing it. She seized her chance.

"Helga!" she yelled, her country voice sounding violent against the uproar of the class. All activity ceased at once; this was most out of the ordinary. Helga raised her eyebrow questioningly at Lila.

"Um, yes?" she said, totally puzzled. The sweet country girl was shaking with nerves now as she opened her desk and reached inside. Helga watched her, transfixed just like everybody else.

"I have track practice today," Lila said in a snobby tone usually reserved for use only by Rhonda. "Clean my shoes for me. Oh, and _before_ lunchtime," she added in an exasperated tone, as though it was a job Helga frequently did badly for her. Helga's shock was soon replaced with a familiar rage as Lila crossed the classroom and thrust a muddy bag into her hands, her face clearly flushed but everyone else was too lost in their disbelief to notice.

"Clean your _shoes_?" Helga repeated in a scandalised tone.

"Got a problem with that?" Lila replied cuttingly, flicking one of her braids over her shoulder. Helga was totally lost for words. Rhonda, on the other hand, was looking at Lila as though she was the best friend she never had, her grin as wide as anything. Helga tried to fight rage with reason.

"Look, I would, but I have practice today as well, during lunch. I can't. I have to clean the mud off my own shoes at recess." This wasn't a lie, Helga was on the track team and she was the fastest runner they had, but the truth about why she wouldn't clean Lila's shoes was different. It wasn't something Lila couldn't do herself; she had obviously been hanging around with the Princess far too much.

"Oh come on," Lila said slyly. "Be _nice_." Helga's eyes narrowed at the use of _that word_ again, but as Gerald was watching her like a hawk there wasn't much she could do about it.

"I said no, Lila," she responded calmly, balling her hands into fists underneath her desk.

"Well," Lila said tartly, "that's not very helpful at all!" Her eyes flicked to Gerald, and Helga's followed suit.

"Oh come on Gerald! She's being unreasonable!" Helga cried, holding her hands out to Lila in a desperate fashion. Gerald looked utterly lost for words; even if he had a judgement on this whole thing he didn't have the capacity to voice it. Arnold, however, knew exactly where his speech was.

"Lila, what are you doing?" he asked her through serious eyes. Lila felt a little crushed. She didn't like Arnold looking upon her like someone he didn't very much care for. She entwined her fingers together and took a deep breath. This _was_ what she had hoped would happen, even if she didn't like it.

"Just asking a friend a favour," she said in a mean voice, and Arnold was startled. He couldn't even begin to fathom what was making her act like this although, like Helga, he thought some of it could be put down to Rhonda's influence.

"It's not very nice of you," he said softly, in that tone he had that never failed to make the hardest man feel guilty. Lila gulped, desperately wishing she could turn around and tell everyone the truth. They were all looking at her with a sort of disgust in their eyes, and though she knew it was no less than she deserved she wished they wouldn't. She merely smirked at Arnold and turned back to Helga, holding out her muddy sneakers once more.

"I'm not cleaning them," Helga replied solidly, pointing her eyes back down at her desk. Lila took a deep breath and went and sat back down, enough damage done to her reputation for the morning. The class soon lapsed back into its state of chaos, Mr. Simmons still not putting in an appearance. It was only when Harold threw Eugene through an open window that Arnold decided he should do something, finally pulled from his thoughts of Lila and her strange behaviour.

"Where are you going man?" Gerald asked him as he went to the door.

"I'm gonna go ask Principal Wartz what's going on," he said, stepping out into the corridor. There were many 'boos' from the rowdy students, but these were quickly silenced when Eugene reappeared at the window, a steady stream of blood gushing from his nose.

"I'm ok."

Once Arnold had left, Rhonda got to her feet and cleared her throat for silence, which promptly followed. "Gerald, darling," she commenced, making Phoebe flush. "You can't tell me that Helga's refusal to clean poor Lila's shoes is not a violation of the rules. All Lila was asking was a favour." Gerald opened his mouth to answer, but he was cut off by Stinky.

"Lila, what are ya doing? You're being all mean and nasty to poor ol' Helga, that's not the country way at all," he said in a saddened voice. Lila didn't respond, just blushed even deeper and looked to her feet.

"This isn't about Lila, Stinky, it's about Helga. Now be quiet and let Gerald speak." Rhonda looked to Gerald once more, folding her arms across her chest. This was not, however, explanation enough for he rest of the class.

"Did you eat something funny today Lila? I hear that can cause mood swings…" Nadine mused, but still Lila wouldn't say anything. The only person she was trying to put off was Arnold, and seeing as he wasn't in the room there was no need for her to be cruel.

"Maybe Lila's looking to be the class bully once Helga leaves," Sid said pointedly, which was followed by a general murmur of agreement.

"No, it isn't like that at all," Lila said, speaking at last. The class looked to her to say more, but she closed her mouth again and with one last meaningful look at Helga, she returned to staring at her lap.

Arnold re-entered the class a moment later, Mr. Simmons following closely behind. "So sorry I'm late class, the traffic this morning was horrendous. Anyway, let's not waste anymore time. Everyone settle down and open your Math books to page eighteen."

-

Helga spent the first ten minutes of her lunch break picking at her stitches. They had been a good excuse for her to get out of practice lately but she was picking them so much they were starting to fray. With a sharp but friendly slap on the wrist from Phoebe she dropped her hand to her side and slurped her juice up noisily through its straw.

As the end of lunch approached Helga was grabbed by a predicatble need to use the toilet. Making her quick excuses to Phoebe she dashed the length of the corridor, pelted into the girl's bathroom and burst into the end stall. Much to her surprise, not to mention her horror, it was already occupied.

"Oh, man, sorry!" she apologised quickly, backing out and covering her eyes.

"It's just ever so fine," a voice said sadly. "I'm quite decent." Helga peeled her fingers apart and stared through the gap to see Lila sitting on the toilet, her legs drawn up to her chest to hide her from anyone who may be checking for feet.

"Oh," Helga said grumpily. "It's you."

"Helga wait," Lila said pleadingly, reaching out for Helga's arm but she promptly snatched it away.

"Wait around for you to give me another order?" Helga snapped. She had become quite accustomed to being mean to people when Gerald wasn't around.

"I don't mean to be like that," Lila said in a depressed tone, and Helga was forced by her conscience to hear her out. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she had been crying for hours, and her body language was so pathetic that Helga knew she wasn't lying when she said she wasn't telling her everything.

"Ok," Helga sighed, sitting on the tiles next to Lila, slightly to Lila's disgust. "Tell me what's going on." Lila burst into noisy tears, and Helga was very much taken aback. Gingerly, she put her arm around the sobbing girls shoulders, not sure exactly how to comfort her or even if she should.

"I just thought…" Lila blubbed heavily, "…that if I could make Arnold hate me maybe you would see it as your chance to… tell him. You know, to tell him how you feel" She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, rather undignified behaviour for a girl like Lila. Helga ran her hand through her bangs and sighed.

"Evil plots aren't your forte, are they sweetheart?" she said in a friendly voice. Lila looked up at her and braved a smile.

"I guess not," she said with a quiet, sad laugh.

"You can't go around being all subtle one minute and full on the next. You've got to do some sort of smooth transition, or people'll be all over you like a rash," Helga said gently.

"Like you're doing with Arnold?" Lila asked, sniffing again. Helga's eye twitched.

"Hey, don't you be trying to give me romantic advice. _You're_ the enemy," she said, forcing a laugh. She could see no problem making friends with Lila in her last few weeks, but she'd much rather not talk about Arnold.

"I'm sorry Helga, I'm just saying. I mean, Arnold's great and all but he's really very dense." Both girls laughed and got to their feet. "He needs you to tell him how much you like him, or he's never going to realise."

"Oh, I know that sister," Helga said, holding the stall door open. "But I'm chicken. Tell anyone you heard me admit that and I'll beat you into next week."

"Understood," said Lila, switching on the faucet and washing her hands. "So," she said, changing the subject quickly. "What do I do now?" Helga pondered this for a minute.

"Well, first things first, drop the mean act. It doesn't suit you. It's for professionals only, like Rhonda and me. Secondly, maybe some great big public apology to me is in order. Blame it on some bad Tofu or something. You'll cry, I'll accept, we'll hug, and all is well."

"Hug?" Lila said, throwing Helga a sideways glance.

"Metaphorically darling', I can still keep that part of my reputation while this stupid bet is running. All I'm saying is don't be something your not. It's hard to maintain, and bad for your sanity. Trust me. Plus you won't be doing Arnold's head any favours with these games you're playing. It's not your fault he loves you so just sit back and enjoy the ride. Who knows, maybe you'll wake up one day and realise how great he really is." Helga sighed and threw her paper towel in the trash can.

"I never really thought of it like that. I most certainly didn't want to mess with Arnold's emotions," Lila said slowly.

"Yeah, well keep things up he way you're going and you won't have much choice," Helga said sternly, and Lila nodded. "Hey," Helga said suddenly. "Why aren't you at track practice?"

"Oh, I don't do track," Lila replied, and she burst quickly through the bathroom door following a friendly push in the back from Helga.

-

"Did you get it?" Rhonda asked in her most dangerous voice.

"Of course my love, I won't let you down this time," Curly replied, head-butting the swinging light in the janitor's closet.

"Oh, you better not," Rhonda said, holding up the heavy jar in front of her eyes. "Ok, I can't hold this disgusting thing much longer, here you go," she said quickly, adverting her gaze and handing the jar back to Curly. With one final look at the rat pickled in formaldehyde, Curly slipped the whole mess back into his backpack and the pair left the closet twenty seconds apart.


	16. Loser

**A/N: Wow, these last two chapters came out close together… Thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story, and thanks very much for all the reviews! –Sky.**

**Chapter 16 – Loser**

Phoebe couldn't help but notice that her best friend was a little distant as she returned to lunch. Far be it from Phoebe to pry into her private business, she just had to know what could have jolted a girl as headstrong as Helga into such an absent state.

"Um, Helga? Are you ok?" Helga was still very lost inside her own head. Her number one rule when it came to day to day life was to never let her guard down. If people knew that this bully had a sensitive side they would see it as an opportunity to take her down a peg or two, and though she never planned on being sugary sweet when this bet came into play she never thought she would end up being _genuinely_ nice. Especially not to Lila, her number one adversary in all things Arnold.

"Oh… just fine…" she said frailly, scratching her head. Without a word from Helga Lila had known that what had passed between them was never to make its way into public knowledge, but that didn't really leave Helga feeling any better about the whole thing.

"Did something happen?" Phoebe asked knowingly. She had always been a little tentative around Helga, lest she suffer her terrible wrath when she asked something too personal, but that didn't change the fact that Helga was her best friend and she would be leaving soon. Phoebe knew what a last ditch attempt was, especially when she was committing one herself, but she was still determined to get Helga to open up to her one way or another.

"Happen?" Helga said, as though she didn't understand the word. Phoebe nodded slowly, yet absently, taking a sip of her juice and trying to act like it wasn't such a big deal. "No," Helga said, her eyes flicking to Lila. "Nothing happened."

Phoebe growled inwardly, knowing full well that Helga was holding back. Sometimes it hurt Phoebe to think that her best friend didn't even trust her, but then she would remind herself that it wasn't that, Helga was just a very private person. It was times like these that Phoebe would question her friendship with Helga. What was it that made her like the scowling bully so much? She had worried, more than once, that it was based on nothing more than fear, but one look into Helga's fierce blue eyes would dispel the thought immediately. The saying went that you could pick your friends, but when Phoebe was enjoying Helga's company she wasn't so sure.

The bell rang once more, the oh too familiar noise making the students groan as the threat of more education was presented to them. Much scraping of lunchboxes could be heard as the kids got to their feet, shuffling their way back to class to finish the day. Helga walked a pace behind Phoebe, wrestling with her conscience and her reputation, trying to decide what would be the best thing to put on the line. Gently, she nudged Phoebe in the ribs, making the small Asian girl slow her speed, despite her usual tendency to be the first back to class. "Phoebe," she whispered. "I'm… scared."

"Scared?" Phoebe repeated in a high pitched yet quiet voice. She wondered if it was going to start raining frogs, such was the rate of rare occurrences that day. Helga was the bravest person Phoebe knew, what could possibly frighten her?

"Yeah, of Rhonda, and what she's plotting. It's not easy to be a marked woman you know." Helga gave Phoebe a sheepish grin, running her hand around the back of her neck in a way she had seen Arnold do a million times. Phoebe allowed herself a small chuckle. Of all the things Helga would fear Rhonda was the last thing she would have suspected. She would have thought that _Helga's deep dark secret_, (which Phoebe was smart enough to have her own theories about), would have been what caused Helga the most concern. Or, of course, the fear she had revealed to them that night they got stuck on the subway. Her fear of rats.

"Oh Helga, what could Rhonda possibly do to you that you couldn't survive?" Phoebe said fondly.

"I don't know…" Helga said with a small laugh, feeling stupid. Still with the ominous feeling hanging over her, Helga entered her classroom and sat down at her desk. She couldn't explain it, but she could just sense that something bad was going to happen. Helga didn't really believe in sixth senses or any of that supernatural junk, but this was the one time she thought that maybe they held a little weight. She plunged her head into her folded arms and closed her eyes, sighing deeply. She felt a gentle tap on her shoulders.

"Helga?" It was Lila. Helga had been so wrapped up in this sudden dark mood that she had forgotten all about Lila's apology.

"Oh…" Helga said gently, before kicking herself into character. "Um, I mean… Oh, Lila. Can I help you?" This was the polite nice tone that still reeked of Helga's resentful nature.

"Er, yes," Lila said, trying to pretend that the exchange between herself and Helga hadn't happened. "I wanted to tell that I'm just ever so sorry for being cruel to you this morning. I've not been feeling myself lately, and though I'm over it now I'm ever so certain I never meant to hurt you." Helga rolled her eyes, she sure was layering it on thick, but then she coughed and smiled politely, trying to pretend that this was some sort of refreshing surprise. "So anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I'd hate for us to be on bad terms and it would mean just ever so much to me if you could find it in your heart to forgive me."

All eyes were on Helga now following Lila's simpering apology. She sat up a little straighter in her chair and pulled at her braids, before fixing Lila with a serious stare. "Hey sister, everyone has bad days," she said with a gentle shrug, an indication that everything was right once more. Lila smiled gratefully and went and sat back down in her seating, acting as though she didn't feel Rhonda's murdering stare fixed in between her shoulder blades.

Arnold's eyes were trained on Lila once more, his faith restored in her unwavering country charm. Helga sneered at him quickly before anyone noticed, and then returned her head to her folded arms. She wasn't left to her depressing thoughts for too long however, as another tap on her shoulder followed mere moments after Lila had gone. Helga raised her head once more, her eyes barely open, and was very surprised to find Rhonda standing over her with an apologetic look in her eyes. "Helga?" she said softly, her voice laced with a phoney sympathy that everyone else in the class mistook for real.

"Yeah?" Helga said bluntly, suspecting a trick.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry too. I've been totally out of order about this whole bet thing and maybe you don't really deserve it…" Helga raised her eyebrow, a sceptical look on her face.

"Really?" she said sarcastically. "Why the sudden change of heart?" Rhonda played with her shirt nervously, hamming it up no end now that everyone's attention was caught.

"Well, you are leaving and I guess you're not all bad. So, you know, I'm gonna stop with all this tormenting you. You don't really deserve it. I know we've had our disagreements in the past but… oh, I don't know, Maybe there's just something about you I simply can't stay mad at." She barked a very fake laugh and waved her hands about prissily, beaming at her audience.

"Um, thanks?" Helga said gently, knowing that everyone was watching her but not believing Rhonda for a second. After all, Helga was the expert on feigning feelings; how many times had she told Arnold she hated him? Rhonda gave her another small grin and went and sat back at her seat.

"Wow, that Rhonda sure is gracious," Stinky said in a hushed voiced to Sid. Helga rolled her eyes. How thick could you get?

Mr. Simmons entered the classroom in his usual blaze of optimistic energy. _If Arnold was a teacher…_ Helga thought, clearly becoming more spiteful inside the nicer she was on the outside. He pulled the familiar map down over the chalkboard and cleared his throat for their attention, nowhere near as good at is as Rhonda was. Ok class, settle down please," he said delicately. Slowly the class gave him half of their attention, bored with the lesson already and wishing they could escape. "Today's geography lesson will be all about the fjords of Norway!" The class all groaned, finding it difficult to stir up as much enthusiasm as Mr. Simmons. "Everyone, books out!"

Helga pulled her geography book out of her desk and stared at the cover. A thousand 'A + H's outlined in little hearts adorned the surface, all of them viciously scratched out in heavy pencil. Sighing, she opened the book and began making notes on the boring lecture Mr. Simmons was giving.

Even his teacher didn't notice Curly rising out of his seat and stalking across the back of the classroom. Everyone in the class was in a very distant stupor, all lost in their own little daydreams. Even Phoebe looked a million miles away. Helga's pencil danced elegantly across her paper, her eyes never leaving the blue lines as she traced the carbon lines over them.

It all happened very suddenly. Rather expertly Curly managed to pull at the neck of Helga's white t-shirt with one hand while delicately dropping the slimy rat down her back with the other. Rhonda snickered into her book, already watching before anyone else as she knew what was about to happen. At first Helga wasn't sure what was going on, but as she felt the cold wet drops running down her back she leapt to her feet. "What the..!" she cried, scratching her hands all over her t-shirt trying to get whatever it was out. Rhonda had burst into noisy laughter by this point, making everyone turn to stare at Helga.

In her panicked fidgeting Helga had managed to shift the rat around top her front, and she plunged her hand down there, curling her fingers around the rat tail and flinging it out of her clothes. It landed with a wet splat on Helga's geography book, bringing with it Helga's prized possession; her Arnold locket. In between her horror at the rat and her embarrassment if anyone saw the locket, Helga was rooted to the spot. Luckily for her Lila was quick on her feet and she dashed forward and grabbed the locket before anyone else had time to notice it. With that dilemma out of the way Helga turned her attention back to the dead rat that was slowly oozing down her desk. For a few seconds she did nothing, before letting out a very terrified high pitched scream and darting at Rhonda. Rhonda had expected, or rather hoped that Helga would snap, but she still wasn't quick enough. Helga grabbed her by her shirt and pushed her up against the wall before Mr. Simmons even knew what was going on.

"RATS!" she growled menacingly through clenched teeth. "I hate rats."

"Oh," Rhonda said smoothly, trying to hide her slight tremor of fear. "I know." Helga was infuriated. The bet was just a faint mental note lingering on the edges on her mind as her rage took centre stage. It took her just a second to swing her fist back and give Rhonda that black eye, and the satisfaction lasted just as long, instantly replaced with a feeling of regret as she let go of a yelling Rhonda's t-shirt. Rhonda was in a fair amount of pain but that was nothing compared to the reverie she felt as Helga hid her face in her hands, well aware of what she had just done.

"You lose, Pataki," she said with a grim smile, touching her fingers gently to her swollen eye. "Right Gerald?" Gerald, who looked absolutely stunned at what the bet had escalated to, simply nodded, clearly relieved that this whole nasty business was over. It was then that everyone remembered a teacher was present and fearful, both Rhonda and Helga looked to Mr. Simmons. Curly had fled through the window a long time ago.

"That's it! Now I hate to have to do this but Rhonda? Helga? You will have detention for the rest of the week starting tomorrow and your parents will be called. Now Rhonda, you go to the nurse's office and get that eye sorted out. Helga, please clean up that mess at your desk." As Rhonda left the room with that superior smile still plastered on her face, Helga blanched.

"I, er-" She was feeling a little sick at the idea of having to go near that rat ever again. Her clothes were damp from the chemicals the rat had been pickled in and she was desperate to go clean herself up.

"I'll do it Mr. Simmons," Arnold volunteered. Helga flashed him a grateful smile and with a nod from Mr. Simmons, she went to clean herself up.

-

Helga stood by the famous 'Wall' after school had let out with tears in her eyes. She didn't know exactly how much winning the bet had meant to her until after the opportunity was gone. A stormy feeling was beginning to settle over Hillwood, and Helga, who usually loved the thunder, was dreading the time when it would start raining. The names were still visible on the Wall, but the rain had beaten them down quite badly. Delicately, Helga stroked Jimmy K's name with her fingertips. It was the first, and the most faded of them all.

"Are you ok Helga?"

Helga dropped her hand to her side and looked up at her football-headed companion

"Yeah," she said sadly, and to her surprise she actually felt it a little. "It's just a dumb wall," she said with a small laugh.

"Yeah," Arnold agreed, nodding. "You won't be so easily forgotten you know." She hated the way he was always able to tap into her feelings no matter how hard she tried to hide them.

"You think so?" she said hopefully.

"Of course not," Arnold said, smiling widely. "In fact, this whole bet thing has made sure that's the last thing that'll ever happen." Helga grinned at Arnold. He was right, and if Gerald saw it the same way she would become legendary. "I know I've said this before Helga," Arnold said, looking to his feet. "But when you're being nice, you're pretty cool. I haven't forgotten what you did for me." Helga looked at him, puzzled. "The science project?" he said with an air of faint amusement.

"Oh yeah," she said, bursting out with laughter.

"Walk you home?" he offered. Helga smiled.

"Whatever floats your boat, football head."

-

Helga arrived home that night with a lot to think about. After dinner she excused herself straight away and went up to her bedroom. She sat in her pyjamas, cross-legged on her bed, resting her chin in her hands. She'd had enough of running around being everyone else's lap dog, just to earn a place in their memories. She was going to reach out and get what she wanted. Arnold. Just because the bet was over, it didn't mean she was going to give up this nice act. Only now it wasn't going to be forced, she wasn't going to be scripted by Princess Lloyd.

If Arnold liked her nice, then nice she would be.


	17. Isn't She Lovely?

**Chapter 17 – Isn't She Lovely?**

Helga gently swept her hair up into its usual bunches in the morning with a smile on her face. The fact that her new 'nice-for-all-the-right-reasons' attitude had caused her to start her day on a dainty note made her very happy indeed. She thought she could see the goodness actually glowing out of her as she stared at her reflection. It was the same aura Lila seemed to possess that made the boys trip over their tongues. Helga never thought she had the capacity to be sweet to people she usually regarded as a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but the more she thought about it the more she realised she had never taken much satisfaction out of being horrible to them either. It didn't do her conscience much good every time she socked Brainy or pushed Stinky into yet another trash can, but she had grown so used to ignoring that little voice in the back of her head she had forgotten it was there.

Since the bet had started though Helga found it had gotten louder and louder. With so many circumstances arising where she had to hold back from her usual behaviour, she was starting to realise how regularly mean she was. The voice was now wagging an 'I told you so' finger at her, and Helga was not surprised to find that it sounded just like Arnold. It was nice to have his sweet preachy tones in her head though, and even if she felt at times like she was going a little crazy, it was nice to know that at least there would always been an optimist around. Bundling up her school books she opened her front door, and was quickly pulled back by her father.

"Hey, where do you think you're goin' Missy?" he barked.

"Uh, school dad," Helga answered, genuinely bemused.

"Oh, right," her father grunted, looking as though he was trying to remember something he had forgotten. "Oh yeah, that's it. You've gotta have those damn stitches out his afternoon, I'll pick you up from school at lunchtime." Helga glanced at her hand, she had totally forgotten about getting her stitches removed.

"Ok dad," she said sweetly, causing her dad to give her a sideways look. With a final smile at him she left her house whistling some tune she couldn't get out of her head. The bus pulled up in next to no time, and Helga felt like the day had already gotten off to a brilliant start. She was something like astounded that she hadn't had to remind Bob of her hospital appointment, he had remembered all by himself. She sat down next to Phoebe, whose sympathetic look towards Helga was immediately replaced with a smile when she saw how happy Helga looked.

"My, you certainly look cheerful this morning Helga," Phoebe said, smiling sweetly.

"I am cheerful Pheebs," Helga said, shrugging her backpack from her shoulders. "It's a nice morning, I only have a half day at school," here she pointed at her hand, "and the sun might not be shining but then I never was much of a summery person anyway."

"So," Phoebe said slowly, clearly choosing her words. "You're not upset about the bet at all?" Phoebe winced slightly, but Helga gave her friend a small smile and shrugged.

"I thought I would be, you know? But I'm not. You'll remember me when I'm gone, won't you?" Phoebe nodded bravely. "Then that's all I need." The bus trundled along it's usual route picking up it's usual students, and Helga and Phoebe lapsed into discussion about Helga's new nice attitude. Unless Helga was mistaken, Phoebe seemed a little uncomfortable with the idea of Helga changing her ways, but Helga thought it would soon pass when Phoebe saw how much _better_ she was. She wasn't going to be sickly sweet in the Lila manner that she had adopted before, she was going to be less temperamental, as she knew that her short fuse was the root of all her anger and meanness. The bus rolled to a gentle stop and Rhonda climbed aboard with Nadine in tow. Helga knew that she was going to have to face Rhonda sooner or later, and she knew it wasn't going to be pretty, so she saw it as the best time to try out her new and improved mind set.

"Good morning Rhonda," she said when she realised that Rhonda was likely to walk straight past her. She was wearing large aviator shades to cover the bruise Helga had given her the day before, and Helga had to admit she was feeling a little guilty about it.

"Oh." Rhonda said stopping, and Helga could tell that her eyes were narrowed underneath those sunglasses. "You. Why are _you_ speaking to me?" Though Rhonda said it in an obnoxious voice, Helga knew that what she really meant was 'as opposed to beating my face in?' Helga played nervously with the sleeve of her shirt.

"I just… you know, wanted to make peace. We seemed to get along _ok_ before this bet thing and it's just made everything really tense… don't you think?" Phoebe rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the window.

"But Helga, _darling_, it's not over yet," Rhonda said in a voice that could have frozen water.

"It isn't?" Helga asked, and Phoebe found herself rapt once more.

"Oh my no," Rhonda said with a small laugh. "You lost the bet. You have to pay the price." A memory flashed in the corner of Helga's mind. _Dunked at your last supper_. How could she have been so wrapped up in the bet that she had forgotten there were consequences to losing as well as winning? "I know you've got a few weeks left yet Pataki, but mark my words, I will not forget." Rhonda put her nose in the air and went to sit next to Nadine. Helga was proud that she had not lost her tempter in the face of the Princess, but she knew that could only be attributed to the fact that Rhonda had struck her dumb with her last comment.

"I'd forgotten all about that," Phoebe said in a small voice.

"So had I," Helga replied as the bus pulled up to the school.

-

The morning passed without incident. Helga barely spoke at all and only responded to questions with single word answers. Her English assignment, which would have glowed with creative promise on any other day, was badly misspelled and poorly thought out. She sighed. She had no idea why this was depressing her so much, but then she remembered that everyone's last image of her would probably be of her with spaghetti dripping down her face. Rhonda had an air of sickening smugness, and she didn't seem to notice that most people were shifting away from her as though she were a bad smell during the lesson. Lila and Rhonda now occupied opposite ends of the classroom, Rhonda having decided that Lila was no longer to be associated with. Helga had noticed that Arnold was throwing her odd glances every now and then, but for once in her life she didn't care, or wonder why. She wasn't bombarding him with spit balls now she was no longer prohibited to do so, so maybe that was the reason he couldn't keep his eyes off her. The bell rang, and the class dashed outside to enjoy an overcast recess.

"Helga, are you ok?" a voice asked as Helga sat miserably on the swing. Phoebe had gone to the library to finish her English assignment, picking up very well on Helga's desire to be alone.

"Huh?" Helga said, looking up. Arnold was standing over, that concerned look in his eyes yet again. Maybe feeling sorry for everyone else was his way of keeping from pitying himself. "Oh, yeah, I'm ok." Helga was trying to sound perky. This new nice attitude was all for him after all, and she might as well keep it up.

"You seem really down. Is it what Rhonda said? I can talk to her if you want, you know, get her to change her mind." He sat down on the vacant swing next to Helga, curling his arm around the chain.

"No, it's ok Arnold. I gotta take my punishment or everyone will think I'm a pansy."

"Trust me, no one thinks that." Helga and Arnold both laughed and Helga found she already felt a little better. She hoped she would never feel depressed in England, as Arnold wouldn't be around to cheer her up. However, that was going to be the cause of her sadness so she didn't have much hope. She looked at Arnold, and he was smiling faintly at her. She was astounded. How could a boy she had been unrelentingly mean to for the past five years be so forgiving? And she had never even really said she was sorry.

"Look, Arnold, before I go, I just wanna-"

"Arnold?" Helga looked at him. _Yes, Arnold, that is your name after all_.

"Get a name change while I was away?" she asked with faint amusement.

"No, it's just that that's twice now you've not called me Football Head or Hair Boy or anything else. Are you feeling ok?"

"Oh, do you like it? I decided I am going to be fine and lovely for the rest of my time here," she said in what was clearly a mocking voice, but her words still held sincerity.

"Really?" Arnold asked, looked shocked. "Why?" Helga shrugged, dancing around the real reason in her head despite her resolution to tell him how she felt sooner or later.

"Just because," she said simply, and Arnold looked at her strangely.

"Ok." A strange silence passed between them. Arnold didn't take his eyes off Helga but she looked to her feet, trying to avoid his searching gaze. He couldn't be on to her, he just couldn't be. The bell rang and both of them stood up.

"Helga?" Arnold asked quietly.

"Yeah?" she responded, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Is it weird that it feels strange when you aren't calling me names?" Helga rolled her eyes and looked at Arnold, expecting him to be smiling but instead he was looking at her deadly serious.

"What?" she asked, but he was looking straight into her eyes and making her feel a little uncomfortable. He cocked his head to the side, thoughtful, still fixed on Helga's eyes.

"Nothing," he said simply, and they went inside.

-

The bell rang to signal lunchtime and as hoards of kids made their way noisily to the cafeteria, Helga set off quietly to the school office. She pulled a note from her pocket and waited for the secretary. The office seemed to be empty, and she sat herself down on a rickety seat and waited patiently. Bob would go crazy if she was late, but it wasn't really something she could help. She flicked through an old school newspaper and hummed gently to herself.

"Make sure you get plenty of rest now," a voice said from the nurse's office. A half-hearted murmur of agreement followed this, and Helga was surprised to find that Sheena's aunt was leading Arnold out into the hallway, and he was clutching his stomach with a pained expression. With one last reassuring smile, the nurse disappeared back into her office and Arnold waited until the door clicked shut before straightening up and beaming at Helga.

"You're faking!" she said in a scandalised whisper. His smile didn't falter.

"Maybe a little, but I wanted to come with you to the hospital." Helga raised her eyebrow quizzically.

"Why?"

"Well, I was too much of a sap to see them get put in and in the spirit of turning over a new leaf I went to see them get taken out." Helga frowned at the boy. She could tell he had a different angle but she was so pleased to have his ill-gotten company that she didn't much care to find out what it was.

"You can't come _with_ me though, Bob's picking me up," she said sadly. Arnold's eyes widened.

"Is he still mad at me?"

"Well, you did imply he was a lousy father," Helga said, trying to make a joke of it but not being completely naïve to the harshness of her words.

"Oh yeah," Arnold said nervously, fully appreciating what Gerald had said about it not being a bombsite he would want to chance near. "I can still meet you there though, right?"

"Wow Arnold, look at you. Faking illness to get out of school, sneaking around behind my dad's back, I must be a bad influence on you."

"Well, someone's gotta be the rule-breaker now that you're all _lovely and sweet_," he said, fluttering his eyelashes. Helga rolled her eyes.

"How did you know I was going to hospital today anyway?"

"I was there when you made the appointment, remember?" Helga blushed and nodded, before handing her note into the secretary and together they left the school.

Helga's mood, which had been getting a serious lift anyway, was improved even further when she saw not Bob but Miriam parked outside the school. Her head was lolled back on the seat and she was snoring, a thin line of drool making it's way down her chin. Helga grabbed Arnold by the elbow and dragged him over just as he was about to make his sly way to the bus stop.

"My mom's here, its ok!" she said as he tried to make his non-verbal objections.

"Won't your dad have told her?" he asked in a worried voice, but when Helga didn't answer him or even meet his gaze he could have kicked himself. Helga wrenched open the back door of her mom's car and pushed Arnold inside roughly before climbing in herself. "Hey mom!" she said brightly, causing her mom to wake up and bash her head slightly on the rolled up window.

"Uh? Oh, hello Helga," she said weakly, starting the engine.

"Hello Mrs. Pataki," Arnold said, and Miriam spun around in her seat, clearly noticing him for the first time.

"Oh, you're Helga's little friend," she said, before facing front again. Arnold would have thought it was strange that she hadn't asked him what he was doing there, but then he had heard a few rumours about Helga's mother in the boy's bathroom. Gulping, he fastened his seatbelt. They sped along the city roads, getting lost a few times but Miriam was soon set straight with a little help from Helga. Helga felt as though her heart was about to burst as Arnold sat willingly beside her, smiling at her occasionally but not saying much at all. She wanted to strike up a conversation, but she couldn't think of anything to say. His hand lay unguarded on the upholstery of the back seat, and she longed to take it in hers. She swallowed thickly and turned her attention to the horizon that was speeding by.

"Is it… left here, Helga honey?" Miriam asked, peering through the windscreen and pushing her glasses back up. Helga glanced out of the window.

"Uh, yeah, I think so." The car turned the corner and the big red building that was Hillwood Hospital appeared before them. Miriam pulled into the car park and switched the engine off. Helga had a little difficulty undoing her seatbelt, and it took Arnold a good five minutes to pry it open. "Mom, you don't have to-" she was going to say _come with us_, but her mother already had her forehead pressed against the window and she was snoring gently. With a small shrug at Arnold both of the children climbed out of the back seat and made their way up to the hospital.

"I think she's narcoleptic," Helga said jestingly as the automatic doors parted in front of them. She walked up to the reception in the outpatient's department, where a red-headed receptionist sat, doing a crossword and looking bored. She coughed politely and the receptionist looked up, chewing a pink wad of gum like a cow.

"Name?" she said smartly, not asking why Helga was there or what she wanted.

"Um, Helga Pataki," Helga said quickly, aware that she had almost forgotten. The receptionist searched through some file on her computer, tapping at her keyboard with long manicured nails, before sighing and turning back to Helga.

"Half-two, Dr. Marshall, stitches removal?" she said in a tired tone that indicated that she knew she was right.

"Er, yeah," Helga replied.

"Take a seat, someone will call you." The receptionist turned back to her crossword without giving Helga a second look, so she went to sit down next to Arnold, who had already taken a seat.

"Thanks for coming with me Arnold," Helga said brightly, striving to be nice.

"Whatever floats my boat, huh?" Arnold replied, and Helga felt that familiar uncomfortable feeling again and stared at her hands.

They had been there for about half an hour when a middle aged woman with a bandage on her wrist came and sat next to them. There was something about her that both Arnold and Helga took an instant dislike to. Maybe it was the way she looked as though she was in a bad mood all the time, or the way she pursed her lips and kept throwing them dirty looks, but they chose to ignore her and continued to wait in silence. Helga got to her feet and picked up a tattered magazine to read. It was some pre-teen drivel she wouldn't have read on any other day, but she felt like she was being suffocated in the silence between herself and Arnold, which she could neither explain nor being herself to break. She returned to her seat and began flipping through the pages, pausing on an article about a girl who had fallen in love with her step-brother.

"_It's not like we're doing anything wrong," Deidre explained. "We're not even blood related, it's just through marriage but everyone acts like we're doing something really sick." Relationships between step-brother and sister have always been a taboo subject, but as Mike explains here, maybe it's time we adjusted our thinking. "If I had met Andrea first before our parents married and then my mom and her dad had gotten together as a result, it wouldn't be as strange then, would it? I mean, that has to have happened more than once, and no one would stop our parents marrying because there's no word for the relation between the parents of a married couple…_

Helga got to her feet, intrigued by the story but no longer being able to fight her urge to use the bathroom. She laid the magazine face down on her chair and walked to the toilets quickly. After she was done she washed her hands and stared at her face in the mirror. Was it just her, or did she look different? It seemed as though something was missing, and she had tired lines all around her eyes. She shrugged. She didn't really feel different, just a little down, and that was to be expected, wasn't it? She splashed some water onto her face and then hurried back to the waiting room, not wanting to miss her name if it was called.

Bending down to pick her magazine back up, Helga was immediately hit with the realisation that it wasn't there. She looked over at Arnold, who looked a little catatonic. He was clearly bored out of his mind, his eyes were half closed and his mouth was hanging open, catching flies. Helga sighed and wished she had made an effort to talk to him. But she found that when she wasn't arguing with Arnold they really had very little to say. Her eyes flicked to the uptight woman who had sat beside her, and she was outraged to find that clutched in her bony fingers was her magazine. Helga said back down heavily, trying to indicate that yes she was back and she would like her magazine again now thank you. The woman didn't even seem to register Helga's presence.

"Hey Arnold," she hissed, snapping Arnold out of his stupor. "She took my magazine."

"Ask for it back then," Arnold said. Helga shook her head.

"I don't want to cause a fuss," she said, blushing and feeling stupid.

"Oh come on Helga, since when do you let people get away with doing things like that?"

"Since… you know…" Helga said, making a strange motion with her hands. Arnold frowned.

"Oh come on Helga, this isn't you," he said, raising his voice to a normal speaking level that seemed strangely rude in the quiet of the waiting room.

"What isn't me?" Helga said defiantly, controlling her temper but also raising her voice.

"This!" Arnold shrieked. "You're not like this! I always thought you'd be better if you were nicer… but…" he faltered, realising both what he had just said and what he had just acknowledged.

"But what?" Helga demanded, but still managing to keep her sweet demeanour.

"You're… fiery," Arnold said, chancing a smile.

"Fiery?" Helga repeated, not returning his smile at all. So that was how he saw her? A hot headed scowling bully? Well, maybe she was reading a little too much into it, but she wasn't so stupid as to not know what he was getting at.

"Well, yeah," Arnold said pathetically, rubbing his elbow. Helga felt something inside her break. Did everyone have this opinion of her? Did they all have this hot and cold attitude to her, like she was ok only _sometimes_? But she _was_ nice. She was kind and caring and sweet. She was, she knew it.

"I'm nice," she said softly, almost pleadingly, as though she needed Arnold to confirm it.

"Um, sure," Arnold said, sounding a little freaked out.

"Lovely and nice," Helga uttered as her eyes glazed over. Arnold took a step back.

"Helga, are you ok?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm fine," she said sweetly as her name was called. "I'm just lovely." Arnold watched her disappear into the doctor's office with a worried look on his face.

"I hope so," he said gently, and he sat back down to wait for her.


	18. How Helga Got Her Mean Back

Chapter 18 – How Helga Got Her Mean Back

Helga didn't even wince as Dr. Marshall slowly pulled the stitches from her hand. It wasn't even as though she was lost in thought, quite the contrary as she was desperately trying not to think at all. The bet, losing, leaving, Arnold, it had all come together in her head and caused an almighty explosion in the corners of her brain. Everything toppled inward and now it lay in a smoking heap on the bottom of her mind, and all that was left was the one idea that Helga was nice. Nothing else mattered as long as she didn't curse, as long as she didn't scowl and bully, because then the one last idea in her head would be lost and she would break down.

'_Break down?_' she thought. '_Whoops, too late_.' She knew that she was acting in a most peculiar fashion, but she couldn't hide from the fact that it made so much sense to her. All the roundabout ways she had gone to try and make Arnold love her really were needless complicated. Arnold liked nice. Helga was nice. Arnold liked Helga. It really was that simple. As Dr. Marshall pulled the last stitch from her hand, she chuckled lightly.

"That's the first time that's ever tickled anyone," he said with a small grin. Helga smiled politely and said nothing. "I asked her out," the doctor said suddenly as he dabbed Helga's hand with cotton wool.

"Hmm?" she said distractedly, staring at the curtains.

"The pretty blonde nurse," Dr. Marshall said. "I asked her out." Something flashed in Helga's mind, her last meeting with Dr. Marshall when he had been yammering on about some bimbo or other. Helga mentally kicked herself. _That wasn't very nice_.

"Oh," she said softly. Whether Dr. Marshall was crestfallen or confused at Helga's lack of enquiry even he wasn't sure, but he ploughed on regardless.

"She said yes! Isn't that fantastic Helga?" Helga, who was now swinging her legs wildly back and forth on the edge of the bed, stopped suddenly and blinked her eyes at him rapidly.

"I guess so," she mumbled. Dr. Marshall frowned at her. The last time he had seen Helga he had gotten the distinct impression that nothing would please her more than to hear there was hope for those who had carried a hefty amount of unrequited love around with them for a long time. Now it seemed as though she felt whole deal was a little silly and pointless.

"Helga, is something wrong?" he asked tentatively, getting the distinct feeling that he had just put his foot in his mouth. What if Helga _had_ asked her boy out, but he had flat refused her? The last thing she would have wanted was someone else rubbing their success story in her face.

"No, I don't think so," she said quietly, in a sweet voice that seemed to indicate that she wasn't sure if she was alright or not.

"Are you sure?" he said as he wrapped a fresh white bandage around Helga's hand.

"Absolutely. Thank you doctor." She got to her feet and almost floated away through the curtain, she was walking so lightly. Dr. Marshall frowned and followed her. Not only was she talking to him as though they had never met, she had also left without waiting for his instructions about her hand.

"Helga, wait!" he called as he skidded around the corner. He was most surprised to find Helga standing perfectly still, staring at a vending machine with fiery intent. "Helga?" he asked her gently. She didn't look up, or even acknowledge the fact that she was no longer alone. "Helga?" he tried again.

"I'm thinking about getting Arnold a present," she said in a monotone, leaning her fingertips against the glass and scanning the contents of the machine more closely. "Do you think he would like that?"

"I'm sorry?" Dr. Marshall said, utterly confused.

"A present," she repeated, finally removing her eyes from the rows of candy bars so she could roll them at the doctor. "People like presents, and they like people who give them presents."

"Perhaps," the doctor mused, both catching on and noticing the glazed look in Helga's eyes at last. "But maybe Arnold would prefer something a little more special than a Mr. Nutty Bar."

"Do you really think so?" Helga said eagerly, blinking at the doctor in a way that just served to make her look crazier.

"I do. Look, Helga, are you alright?" Dr. Marshall said quickly before she had a chance to get away from him again.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said delicately, clearly wishing to get away but her new found, (and overly-stressed) politeness would not allow her to move.

"Are you on your own?" Dr. Marshall asked, walking forward in a way that indicated Helga should follow him back to the waiting room.

"No, Arnold is here," she said with a manic smile.

"Really? Shouldn't he be at school?"

"He ducked out," she said, before adding breathlessly, "For me."

"Well, that was nice of him…" Dr. Marshall said half-heartedly, wondering if it actually was a good idea for Helga to spend so much time with the person who was clearly responsible for her strange behaviour. They rounded the white, sterile corners and entered the plastic waiting room, where Arnold was no longer sitting down but pacing around like an anxious expectant father. Dr. Marshall left Helga to her own devices and pulled Arnold to one side. Arnold followed, trying to look surprised but knowing full well that the doctor was going to question him on the way Helga was acting.

"Arnold," Dr. Marshall began gently, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"If this is about Helga, I don't know what's making her-"

"It's you," Dr. Marshall cut in.

"Me?" Arnold replied, shocked to his very core.

"Yes, you," Dr. Marshall said again, wondering how he could both blame Arnold and tiptoe around Helga's feelings for the young man at the same time.

"What did I do?" Arnold said defensively.

"It's not so much what you did," Dr. Marshall began uncertainly. "More who you are." Arnold was clearly bewildered, so Dr. Marshall decided to try a different tack. "What I mean to say is… Helga's got this strange idea in her head that she should be… more like you?" The last word was uttered as a question because for all Dr. Marshall knew he was making the whole thing up. There was always the possibility that Helga's mental troubles were being caused by an entirely different factor, her father for one was bound to be some sort of heavy presence on her mind, but then, he thought as a pretty blonde nurse swept past winking at him, it probably was Arnold. He knew what unrequited love could do to a person.

"Why would she want to be more like me?" Arnold asked, looking uncertainly at Helga, who was now sitting on a plastic chair with her legs crossed and her back straight, an odd little smile on her face.

"Well, someone like you is someone you'd like…" Dr. Marshall said, hoping that if he dropped enough hints Arnold would finally see he big picture. It was obviously useless; Arnold was still all at sea.

"She wants me to like her?" Arnold chanced after a moments intense thought.

"Yes!" Dr. Marshall exclaimed, stopping himself from breaking into a small jig with some difficulty.

"But I _do_ like Helga," Arnold insisted. Dr. Marshall surveyed him through narrowed eyes.

"You do?" he asked, hardly daring to believe his ears.

"Yeah, I mean, I know she bugs me sometimes, but she's nice enough." Dr. Marshall brought his hand up to his forehead and closed his eyes completely. "Is something wrong?" Arnold asked.

"No, nothing's wrong," Dr. Marshall lied.

"I'm really sorry Dr. Marshall, I don't know what you're getting at." Arnold looked back to Helga again. "I wonder why she hasn't come over yet?" he thought out loud.

"Would she have usually?" Dr. Marshall asked.

"Well, Helga's a little impatient… on any other day," Arnold added as an afterthought.

"But not today?" Dr. Marshall pressed.

"She's not been herself at all, not since…" he trailed off, reconstructing the scene in his mind. _The snobbish woman had taken Helga's magazine, and Arnold was pushing Helga to take it back. When she had said she wouldn't his first thought had been 'How un-Helga like.' Was she trying to prove him wrong?_

"Since?" Dr. Marshall continued.

"Since I accused her of being temperamental," Arnold finished lamely.

"And is she?" Dr. Marshall asked.

"Yes," Arnold said, and to Dr. Marshall's surprise, he smiled. "That's what Helga's supposed to be." Dr. Marshall beamed at the young boy.

"So why is she acting so strange?" Arnold took a deep breath and filled the doctor in on all the unpleasant business of the bet, and the lasting effect it seemed to have had on Helga. Dr. Marshall nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment, before rounding on Arnold and taking him by the shoulders.

"Right, here's what you have to do," he said solidly. "Helga's got herself into some sort of strange funk, and you have to get her out of it. I don't know how, aggravate her temper or something, just bring her back to being her old self. She's going crazy Arnold, and from what she told me when she first came in she doesn't want to leave Hillwood at all, let alone as a crazy person, so at least make it a little easier on the poor girl." Arnold nodded and Dr. Marshall disappeared back into the ward after giving him one last smile.

"Come on Helga, let's get you home," Arnold said warmly, and Helga leapt to her feet and followed her crush to her mother's car.

-

"Hello, Mrs. Hyerdahl? Is Phoebe home?" Arnold lay on his bed with his head hanging off the end, staring up at the cloudless sky. He pinged the phone cord back and forth while he waited for phoebe to pick up at her end, and noticed that his mouth was incredibly dry.

"Hello?" a timid voice squeaked.

"Phoebe? It's Arnold. I need to talk to you about Helga," he said quickly.

"Helga?" Phoebe repeated. "Is she ok?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Well, ok, no, that's a bit of a lie. She's alright she's just gone a little… crazy."

"Crazy?"

"Well… I think I broke her." A thousand horrific images thundered through Phoebe's mind of Helga finally breaking down and confessing her feelings to Arnold, (which she had always denied she'd had, Phoebe noted with an air of contempt), only to have Arnold turn around and strike her down. Now she was wandering around aimless and soulless and lamenting for the love she had never had the chance to have. She shook her head slightly, knowing she was being stupid, but when she went to talk to Arnold again she found she couldn't swallow.

"Oh… really?" she croaked. "How so?"

"Well, she's got the idea into her head that I think she's incapable of being nice… so she's going overboard with the niceness." Phoebe frowned at her end. Arnold was never the king of clarity but now he was just being stupid.

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean Arnold," she said politely. Arnold promptly filled her in on Helga's odd behaviour and everything Dr. Marshall had told him. Phoebe remained quiet throughout, trying to seem shocked but knowing inside that this was exactly the kind of thing Helga had been building up to all her life.

"So, what do you think we should do about it?" Arnold asked nervously.

"Huh?" Phoebe replied, lost in her own thoughts.

"About Helga," Arnold prompted.

"Oh," Phoebe said quickly, very glad that Arnold could not see her blushing. "Well, perhaps Dr. Marshall was right. We should try to goad Helga into her usual, and dare I say it, volatile response when faced with situations that could provoke her negative emotions."

Now it was Arnold's turn to "Huh?"

"We should encourage to show her old fiery side. You know, bring out the Helga we all know and love." Phoebe half expected Arnold to snort, and was most pleased when he did not.

"How do we go about that?" he asked genuinely. Phoebe finally managed to swallow thickly. Provoking Helga into a fury was not only something Phoebe felt was slightly mean, it was also exceedingly dangerous, and something Phoebe usually avoided at all costs. The pair spent the next hour running up Arnold's phone bill in a vain attempt to devise a plan, but they were both in agreement that this would be no easy task. Helga had avoided Rhonda's attempts to get a reaction so well when she was sane, (or as sane as Helga got, anyway). There was nothing supporting the idea that Helga would snap so easily after her little episode.

-

Helga's change of heart and mind was immediately apparent to the rest of her classmates when she shuffled into school the next morning. She had a smile on he face that looked as though she had robbed it from the nearest cheerleader, and her bunches were done up so tightly that they stretched the skin on her forehead. She greeted them all in such an over-the-top fashion that even Lila thought it was a bit much, and she absolutely refused to sit down until everyone else had taken their seats. When Mr. Simmons finally swept into the room, she gave him a cheery wave and sat down sedately with her hands folded in her lap.

"Helga, what on earth has gotten into you?" Rhonda drawled, leaning over to the stiff-backed blonde. Helga merely smiled and pressed a dainty finger to her lips, before turning her full attention back to Mr. Simmons. Arnold watched all of this from the safety of his desk which was hidden in the corner. He knew what he had to do, he and Phoebe had worked tirelessly to find a way to 'cure' Helga, but that didn't make him feel any better about it. Arnold was not, by nature, a mean person, and that didn't stiffen his resolve that their plan would actually work. What was the point in being horrible if you were going to hold back because of your guilt issues?

"Ok class, divide into pairs and get started on your art projects," Mr. Simmons called with a polite smile. "And Helga, may I have a quick word please?"

"But of course Mr. Simmons," Helga said sweetly, getting to her feet amidst small guffaws of laughter. She ignored them all quite expertly and waltzed up to Mr. Simmons's desk.

"Helga, are you quite alright?" he asked the young girl as he ruffled some loose papers on his desk.

"Why I'm just fine Mr. Simmons," she said through her glazed expression. In her mind all she could think about was Arnold, Arnold, Arnold, and there was very little room for anything else except for his wild plan to impress him. _And_, she thought with an excited smile, _it must be working too_. _He hasn't taken his eyes off of me all morning!_

"Are you sure?" Mr. Simmons pressed. "You seem a little different this morning. Is everything alright at home?" Helga merely nodded and looked over to Arnold, and she felt her old temper try to flare up when she spotted he was working with Phoebe. She glanced over at Gerald and noticed that he didn't seem too happy with the arrangements either. She quickly squashed her temper back down when Arnold caught her eye.

"Ok," Mr. Simmons said fussily, before indicating that she could go back to her seat. Helga sat down placidly and glanced around to see who she could work with, that little trickle of rage reminding her once more that she really ought to have been working with Phoebe.

"Helga?" a soft voice asked. Helga looked up, and saw Lila Sawyer standing over her, a hopeful twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

"Yes?" she said in an equally soft voice, as though they were in a contest to see who could be the vilest.

"Would you like to work with me?" Lila asked. She had not forgotten Helga's words of kindness and Helga had not forgotten her half-baked plan to detract Arnold's attention from her. Admittedly the boy was still swooning over the auburn haired country girl like some very sick puppy, but that, Helga supposed, couldn't really be helped.

"I'd love to," she said quickly, and she was only dimly aware of how unnatural her voice sounded.

Over on the other side of the classroom, Arnold and Phoebe had their heads together, still plotting ways to make Helga lose her temper. Phoebe had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach; she wasn't working very hard and it was making her feel uncomfortable. She stared down at the plain white paper with her pencil hanging fruitlessly in her hand, listening intently to Arnold muttering in her ear.

"Insults," Arnold said firmly. "No one likes being insulted."

"Well," Phoebe said softly, tiptoeing around the truth as it always broke her heart to say it. "Helga gets insulted so much I imagine it would be like water off a duck's back." Arnold only took a moment to feel sorry for Helga before ploughing onto the next idea.

"We could push her over or something… you know, in front of everyone. Really embarrass her." Phoebe thought that was the lamest thing she had ever heard.

"Arnold, I certainly don't possess the upper body strength to foul a girl like Helga and while I in no way wish to emasculate you, I don't think you would be able to. Not for the fact that Helga is stronger than you or anything. I believe you are simply too much of a gentleman." Arnold frowned at the pretty oriental girl, but he couldn't help himself from smiling just a little bit. Phoebe blushed and looked over to Helga, whose eyes were darting between Arnold and Phoebe, a faint trace of her old scowl on her lips. Phoebe positively beamed.

"I've got it!" she exclaimed.

"I'm glad one of us does," Arnold murmured into the desk.

"Jealousy, that's the key," she breathed.

"Jealousy?" Arnold repeated, lifting his head off the desk, bringing with it the piece of paper which had firmly stuck itself to his cheek.

"Yes, she's absolutely terrible at handling it," Phoebe said, her eyes dancing.

"Well, what makes Helga jealous?" Arnold asked.

"You –" Phoebe caught herself just in time before she said '_you do_'. Arnold raised his eyebrows at her. "Er… you know, I'm not quite sure," she finished, congratulating herself on a most excellent save.

-

The next few weeks passed almost without incident, much to Arnold and Phoebe's chagrin. In fact, the class had grown so used to Helga's scarily polite ways that the ones who didn't choose to simply ignore her found she was very easily exploited, and as the date of her departure inched ever closer, Helga found herself doing the homework of no less than three of her classmates. Arnold tried to step in on Helga's behalf whenever he could, but he found that it was impossible when Helga was still in earshot. She would insist that it wasn't needed and though she would retain her extreme polite demeanour, Arnold found that her grip on his arm was actually rather painful.

Their attempts to push the poor girl into a jealous rage fell flat on their faces. By parading about pretending that they admired Olga like some sort of goddess, they only inspired Helga to actually _agree_, something which made Phoebe's insides squirm with ill-feeling. They tried to impress upon her the idea that she was not the most creative, talented poet in the class, and that perhaps that title was best suited to Harold, but Helga merely fluttered her eyelashes and gushed for hours about Harold's great potential. Phoebe never expected any of these ideas to work. She knew that the key to Helga's jealousy was Arnold, but she could find no way of telling him that without revealing Helga's big secret, (which technically, she wasn't supposed to know).

"This isn't working," she grunted as she tried to reach up and tie the banner proclaiming Rhonda 'Queen of the Fourth Grade', a little tighter. Arnold sighed and looked to his feet, still holding his hands steady on the stepladder.

"I know," he agreed, and with one violent motion, Phoebe ripped the banner down from above the blackboard.

"Arnold," Phoebe said as she stepped off the last rung, simultaneously throwing caution to the winds. "We need to talk." Arnold bit his lip and looked over Phoebe's shoulder. If his experiences in life had taught him anything, it was that when a woman said she needed to talk, it would usually be about bad news.

"Ok," he said nervously, running his hand over the back of his neck.

"It's you," she said stubbornly, fixing him with a stare whilst crumbling from guilt on the inside. Arnold was shocked into a flash back of his last meeting with Dr. Marshall. _So it's me, is it?_ Arnold thought wildly. _What the heck does that even mean?_ "You're the one that drives her crazy," Phoebe said, now poking him sharply in the chest. "You're the one who makes her jealous and mad, and you're the one that finally pushed her over the edge." Arnold took a few steps back from Phoebe, who it seemed was taking care of Helga's rage while she wasn't using it.

"Me?" he uttered stupidly. Phoebe rolled her eyes, which were now blazing with fury. "What did I do?"

"Just take my word for it, football head" she snapped, neither wanting to divulge details nor feeling that Arnold had earned the right to hear them. Arnold nearly fainted at the use of that particular nickname as it escaped from the mouth of Phoebe.

"O…k…" he said slowly, not sure whether to stand his ground or run screaming from the room. A light seemed to switch on his brain, and he fixed Phoebe with a triumphant smile. "Ha!" he proclaimed.

"What?" she said, hardly daring to believe that he had finally caught on.

"It can't be me!" Phoebe felt as though she had been punctured.

"No, it's definitely you," she said absently, fiddling with a loose cord that hung from the flag.

"But it can't be, or all those other times I tried to make her jealous would have worked!" Phoebe thought he was about to break into a victory dance.

"You're stupid," she said simply, cutting Arnold down. A tense moment passed between the two, in which Phoebe continued to play with the cord and Arnold huffed loudly.

"Ok fine, Miss Smarty-Pants," he said in mock severity. "Tell me what I have to do." Phoebe leaned in and whispered her whole badly-concocted plan into his nervous ear.

-

Helga was quite surprised to find that Phoebe had invited her out. Since her new approach to life, in which she was certain Arnold was warming to her, so obvious were his attempts to glean her attention, she hadn't been out very much at all. Aside from the extra workload, people seemed to be a little skittish around her, as though with one false word her head would turn three-hundred-and-sixty degrees and she would breathe fire. So it was with a happy sort of smile that she sat on a paint-peeling bleacher in Gerald Field, waiting for everyone else to show up.

The rest of the class showed up in drips and drabs, the last two to arrive being Arnold and Lila. Helga narrowed her eyes at them dangerously, before checking herself and instead giving them a friendly wave. Lila smiled nervously at Helga; Phoebe had filled her in on her and Arnold's plan, and while she was willing to do whatever she could to help Helga after Helga's act of kindness, she was still a little uncomfortable with her role. She was to pretend that she was head over heels for Arnold, to perhaps inspire some sort of anger in Helga, but Lila couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the boy. His feelings for Lila were genuine after all, but the ones she would be returning to him were not.

Phoebe, in her eternal wisdom, had managed to convince Arnold that Helga wasn't jealous because he was with someone who wasn't her, but she was jealous because she hated seeing people happier than she was, and Arnold seemed to be happy most of the time. Arnold had swallowed this like so much tripe, and found that the idea of Lila only pretending to be his girlfriend wasn't that bad anyway. Maybe his feelings towards the country girl were fading, but he couldn't really be sure.

Quite wisely, Arnold took Helga's wave as a reason for the pair to go and sit by her, especially seeing as everyone else seemed to be giving her a wide berth.

"Hello Helga," Lila said sweetly. "How are you?" Helga didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on Lila's fingers, which were entwined in Arnold's own. Arnold followed her line of sight and picked up the slack immediately.

"Oh yes, Helga, Lila and I have some very good news!" he gushed, layering on the happy tones quite thickly. Helga found she had a lot of trouble controlling her voice.

"Really?" she squeaked. Was it her, or had everything just turned a funny shade of red?

"Oh yes," Lila said in a dreamy voice. "Arnold and I are a couple! Isn't that just ever so wonderful, Helga?" she said, her eyes positively sparkling. Helga wasn't certain that she should open her mouth at all, the threat of vomiting was so strong.

"That's… fantastic," she said through gritted teeth. Arnold beamed at the fact that she was clearly bubbling over, but Helga mistook his grin for one of satisfaction.

"Isn't it?" Arnold said in a dramatic fashion, looking out over the baseball field where a game was now in progress. Phoebe winked at him from second base.

"I'm…so…happy…for…you," Helga forced out, gripping the bench so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Really? You are?" Lila said in an almost alarming way, causing Helga to draw back a little. "It would mean so much to me if we had your blessing." Helga's rage was temporarily forgotten while she fixed Lila with a confused stare.

"Why do you need my blessing?" she asked. Lila looked to her hands and let out a small giggle.

"Oh…" she said loftily. "No reason." Helga felt as though she were going to explode. There was just something so knowing about the way Arnold looked at her. _What had Lila told him?_

"You didn't," she breathed heavily, her niceness now clearly forgotten.

"Didn't what?" Lila continued, rather bravely Arnold thought, as Helga looked as though she was going to murder the redhead. Helga leaned in closer.

"_You didn't dare tell him_!" she hissed in a frightening whisper that Arnold couldn't hear. Lila blinked her eyes at the blonde girl, smiling in a silly manner.

"Oh, was I not supposed to?"

Helga's screams could be heard all through Hillwood. She knew that there would be some serious patching up to do with Arnold later on, but right now her only concern was taking Lila Sawyer to a dimly lit ally and skinning her alive. Lila got to her feet and fled the field at top speed, with Helga in close pursuit. She was followed by Arnold and Phoebe, who were far too worried about Lila's fate to feel too victorious. They followed her heavy footfalls down Vine Street and into a side ally that led on to some neglected allotments. As they rounded the corner the pair could hear two voices: One timid and scared, the other seething with rage.

"…didn't say a word! I was just trying to help!" Lila squeaked.

"Help!" Helga exclaimed viciously.

"You've not been yourself," Lila offered gently. "It's not right." Phoebe and Arnold held the sound of something heavy being dropped to the floor, and then an audible sigh of relief from Lila. Arnold made to walk around the corner and face the two girls, but Phoebe held out her arm to stop him.

"Why do people keep saying that?" she uttered softly. Arnold smiled; he could almost _hear_ the scowl that had returned to Helga's face.

"It's true," Lila said quickly. "I don't know, maybe we all thought we'd like you if you were…" '_Choose your words carefully Lila_,' Phoebe thought desperately. "If you were… nice. I mean nic_er_," she amended. "But it turns out we like you just the way you are." An awkward silence passed between the two girls, in which Arnold and Phoebe exchanged shrugs, before Helga spoke again.

"Not everyone likes me this way," she said faintly. "I guess it was stupid of me to try and be anything different. I just wanted to be liked by certain people, in certain ways. Don't you get it?" she asked Lila. Lila nodded, though Arnold and Phoebe couldn't see that. Lila knew how badly Helga wanted Arnold to _like her_ like her, she actually felt quite sorry for the Pataki girl.

"I know," Lila said sweetly. "But you know, he-"

Arnold didn't get a chance to find out the rest of the conversation as Phoebe pulled him roughly away from the scene and back to Gerald Field.

-

**A/N: Sorry this one took so long, but, like an idiot, I've busted up my hand. Bones and nerves are all as one, or so the doctor tells me. Anyway, progress is slow yet steady, and I hope to have this fic finished soon. **

**Also, the part where Helga is sitting on the bleachers growing ever annoyed at Arnold and Lila's PDA, I first wrote "…gripping the bench so tightly her knickers turned white." Just thought I'd share that with you, hehe. Must be the painkillers getting to me… -Sky.**


	19. Dearly Departed

**Chapter 19 - Dearly Departed**

Helga walked home alone that night. After assuring Lila that she was perfectly fine the sweet country girl had let her go off on her own, letting her get lost in her thoughs on the slow trek back to her house. Helga found that there was no way to deny it; she felt strange. While very little had changed on the outside, Helga felt as though she had had a total emotional upheaval in her mind. She had never lost her social identity before. Was she the tough mean bully who was still a complex soul on the inside, or was she now an open book with a tendency to needlessly complicate things? Did Arnold not love her because she was mean, or was she mean so that Arnold wouldn't love her? She just didn't know. Lila's words continued to float around her mind. '_You've not been yourself. It's not right_.' Helga snorted as she climbed the steps to her front door. Not herself, huh? But who exactly was she?

"Where have you been little lady?" a voice growled as soon as she had shut the door behind herself.

"Just out, dad," she replied distractedly. As she made to go to her room and spend some more time analysing herself, she felt her father's finger disappear down the collar of her shirt and pull her back.

"Not so fast girl," Bob snarled at her. She turned to her face her father, wondering what she could have possibly done wrong in her previous weeks of saintliness.

"What?" she asked quietly.

"You have to get started on your packing." Helga blinked at her father stupidly.

"Packing?" she repeated, trailing her fingers along the banister.

"England Olga, England!" Bob boomed, poking her on the forehead. Helga blanched. She had been so certain that she would come up with a plan to stop the move that she had kind of assumed it already existed, but now that the time was upon her she realised she hadn't done a thing to change Bob's mind. There was no way this was going to happen though, it just couldn't. "Now, you march yourself upstairs and sort out your clothes! And see if you can't throw a few of them out, I don't think we have enough room for all of Olga's trophies in the cargo hold..." As Bob wandered off to observe exactly how many trophies Olga had for the third time that day, Helga found that she could not walk up the stairs. All of the bones seemed to have been extracted from her legs and replaced with a very heavy metal, titanium, or perhaps lead. Her mind seemed to be completely blank, as though all the thoughts that had been there had been so pointless she had simply disposed of them in her anguish. She finally managed to make it half way up the stairs before changing her mind and walking back down them. Instead, she headed for the telephone.

"Hello?" Helga had expected Phoebe's sweet little voice to calm her in it's familiar way, but it turned out to have the opposite effect. A wave of grief washed over as she thought of all the things she and Phoebe would never get to do together. All the things they would never laugh about again... everything she had never told Phoebe that she had so desperately wanted to.

"Hey Pheebes," Helga said, totally unable to keep the misery out of her voice.

"Helga, what is it?" Phoebe asked, picking up on it at once.

"Man, where do I start?" Helga said with a short, false laugh. Phoebe winced at her end. She knew that Helga had only laughed so she wouldn't have to cry.

"Do you want me to come over or something! she asked, wanting nothing but to rush to her friends aid. Helga was sorely tempted to say yes, but then she thought of her father, sitting in the living room and scowling through _The Wheel _while Olga's trophies glinted in the corner of his eye. If she didn't start packing soon it would be the last thing she never did.

"You probably shouldn't, I've got so much to do," she said sadly.

"Really?" Phoebe asked brightly, trying every wild path she could to cheer Helga up. "What kinds of things?"

"Oh, just packing and throwing away old things," Helga said on the verge of tears as she imagined herself dismantelling the shrine in her closet.

"Packing?" Phoebe shrieked, her cheering up attempts now forgotten. Helga's swallow caught in her throat. She had been talking to Phoebe as if she already knew, but with Phoebe's involvement in all this recent madness it had probably slipped her mind too.

"Um, yeah," Helga said gently, as though breaking bad news. "England, remember?"

"Yeah... I remember," Phoebe said weakly. Helga thought she heard a choked sob.

"I've got a lot to take care of before I go," Helga said softly, and strangely, her thoughts drifted to Brainy.

"I guess you do," Phoebe said in a resigned voice. "When's the... the big day?" Helga would have had to be something rather stupid to miss the bitterness in Phoebe's voice. She glanced at the calendar on the wall.

"Three days time... this Saturday." At the other end, Phoebe dropped her phone. After a moments nervous scrambling, in which Helga had enough time to pick at some loose wallpaper, Phoebe managed to pick up her receiver and compose herself.

"So soon?" was all she was able to say.

"So damn soon," Helga said in saddest tone Phoebe had ever heard.

"So, um, why did you call? Not that I'm not pleased to hear from you of course, but you know..." Helga frowned at her friends voice, as though she had just placed her in a very tight spot.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I didn't know?" Helga said, and once again she gave her silly false laugh. She expected Phoebe to laugh along nervously, or to spout well thought out text book answer as to why people called other people out of the blue. She was, however, pleasantly surprised.

"Not at all, Helga," she said in a friendly yet firm tone, as though to stamp out this silly crazy nonsense at once. "You're my best friend and I'm... well I'm yours." She let out a deep breath as though she didn't think it was upon her to make so bold a statement.

"'Til the day I die, Pheebs," Helga replied.

-

Two hours later, Helga was lying on her bed with her arms under her head, a large, broad grin on her face despite the misery she had been feeling before. If someone had told her that spilling her guts was going to make her feel that good, she would have done it sooner. People had always told her, Dr. Bliss in particular, that getting things off of your chest was the best therapy around. Helga had never held much weight with this generic mental ideal, having always felt that there could be no such thing as a 'cure-all' when everyone was different. She did have to admit, however, that in her case it seemed to be the perfect therapy. She also suspected that the feeling wouldn't last long, though. Sooner or later the reality of what she was being forced to do would hit her again and she would be right back to feeling terrible. There was a soft knock at her bedroom door.

"Yeah?" she said lightly, resenting whoever it was who dared to bring her back to earth. Her mother poked her head around the door, looking a little dazed as ever.

"Helga honey, I was... uh... I was just wondering if you wanted some help... uh... packing." Helga slid off her bed with a short nod; best to get started now and never look back, she supposed. Her mother walked over to her closet and threw the door wide, making Helga's stomach clench.

"No, Mom!" she yelled, skidding over the floor as her socks skidded on the polished wood. "I can do my clothes, ok? You, uh, you pack up the things on my dresser." Her mother looked slightly lost for a second, before pushing her glasses back up onto her face and then heading downstairs for the cardboard boxes she had traditionally forgotten. Helga knew that not even her scatter-brained mom would take long retrieving the boxes from the garage, so she plunged herself headfirst through the row of hanging dresses and fell to her knees at the back of her closet. As usual, her breath was taken away by the homage she had creadted to her beloved Arnold.

She had only a momet to admire her handiwork before she reached forward and grabbed the wicker statue, crumbling it into an indistinguishable mess between her fingers. Her heart broke a little bit as she got to her feet and began to unhook the fairy lights with her free hand. This was the worst she had ever felt. She was leaving behind everything she knew and loved. Her best friend, her 'other' friends, the love of her life who came in that adorable Arnold shape, and now she had to destroy the one thing that had kept her sane for all these years. Well, maybe 'sane' was a bit of a stretch, but it had definitely helped her keep her head, she was sure of that. She heard footsteps on the stairs and dashed out of the familiar darkness of her closet and back into her room.

Her mother re-entered the room just as Helga was stamping down the last of her obsession in her waste paper basket. She threw her mother a guilty look, and her mother knew better than to ask questions.

"Ready Helga?" she asked as she dropped the folded boxes onto Helga's bed.

"I guess so," Helga replied, and she began the long process of packing up her life.

-

For a fleeting moment when Helga woke the next morning, she didn't know where she was. The walls had been stripped of their Wrestlemania posters, the round pink rug had been rolled up and propped in the corner, and her small framed photo of herself and Phoebe at the fair had been neatly packed away. The dolls were gone from the windowsill, letting in a lot more light than usual, and all the books were missing from the shelves. She sighed and switched of her alarm clock, the only thing left on her bedside table, and swung her legs over the edge of her mattress.

"This blows," she muttered to herself.

Her dressing screen was gone also, and Helga felt strangely self-conscious as she pulled her pink dress over her head. It was odd, she couldn't help but feel, but then she had had that dressing screen there for so long that it just didn't feel right without it. It was downstairs, next to four boxes full of trophies and her dad's repulsive deer head. She had had rto fight tooth and nail to be allowed to bring it, her father said there would be no need to take it with them, but Helga had insisted. She had had it for as long as she could remember and she wasn't about to give it up now.

As she left her barren room that day, she was vague aware that her t-shirt was creased and that her bunches were loose. Her ribbon was sloppily tied and one of the tails was now flapping pointlessly in front of her eyes. She fruitlessly stuck out her bottom lip and blew a jet of air up at it, but that did nothing but aggrevate it so she just gave up. She'd been doing a lot of that recently.

Before she realised it Helga found herself at the bus stop. Her feet carried her there without being connected o her brain; it was a journey they had done a thousand times. _And_, Helga thought as her eyes filled with tears, _they would never do again_. If the bus turned up quickly or if Helga was just lost in her thoughts to make it seem that way she didn't know, but it wasn't long before Helga found herself in her usual seat next to Phoebe as the bus trundled to the school. She sniffed as she sat down heavily, and avoided Phoebe's enquiring eyes.

"Morning Helga," Phoebe said softly. Helga merely grunted in response. "It's, um, a lovely day, isn't it?" Helga raised her head a little to look out of the window, and saw a miserbale spatter of rain falling against the glass. The sky was grey and angry, promising one heck of a storm later that night, and the sun was absolutely no where to be seen.

"Liar," Helga said, shooting Phoebe a mischevious grin in spite of herself. Phoebe giggled.

"Alright, it's a miserable morning, but your hair looks fantastic." Both girls collapsed into uncontrollable giggles at this point, and Helga only managed to stop when the cramp in her stomach became unbearable. A figure leaned over the chair in front of them, a nasty sneer on it's face. It was Rhonda.

"Good to see you in high spirits today Helga," Rhonda said smoothly. Helga's eyes narrowed.

"What do you want, Princess?" she growled. Nadine turned around in her seat to watch.

"There's no need to be all high and mighty Helga," Rhonda said arily with a sickly smile. "I actually came to do you a favour." Helga very much doubted this, but she didn't drop her gaze.

"Oh yeah? Gonna jump out of this here window?" she said dryly, jabbing her thumb and the rain soaked pane.

"Charming," Rhonda said, turning up her nose. "Actually, I've decided to bless you tomorrow. I won't be treating you to your mashed potatoes over your head during lunchbreak."

"You won't?" Helga said, brimming over with skepticism.

"No," Rhonda said, smiling in a way that reminded Helga very strongly of a lion contemplating an antelope. "I'll be doing it today instead." And with that she turned back around in her chair and disappeared from view. Helga didn't need to see her to know that she would be looking as smug as could possibly be, however.

-

Lunchtime ticked ever closer, and Helga was surprised to find that there wasn't a trace of foreboding within her at all. She looked down at herself and snorted. Perhaps it was because she was such a mess already that a little peas and gravy might actually improve her appearence a little bit. She let out a tiny laugh that made several people look at her. "You ok Helga?" Helga looked around. Much to her delight, it was Arnold.

"Fine and dandy," she said with a smile that wasn't the least bit false. Arnold smiled back; that dazzling, winning smile that made Helga go weak at the knees.

"I heard about what Rhonda's planning to do to you at lunch," Arnold whispered with the smallest trace of outrage in his voice. "It's really unfair."

"We all gotta take our lumps, football head," Helga said, the smile still dancing across her lips and lighting up her whole face. She couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling Arnold definitely liked it, and that just made her grin ever more.

"You seem... really happy," Arnold said, slightly bemused.

"Oh I am Arnold-o," she said cheerfully, not rerally bothering to lower her voice. "I'm moving, nothing I can do about that. I'm going to wear my lunch today, nothing I can do about that either. I might as well smile or I'll only end up sad. Know what I'm saying?" Arnold knew all too well what Helga was saying. He was the King of looking on the bright side.

"That's really positive of you Helga." The blonde girl rolled her eyes. "What?" Arnold asked.

"Positive?" Helga said in a mocking tone.

"Yeah, you know... high spirited, cheerful, ha-"

"I know what positive means," Helga said sternly. "It just seems weird to hear you saying it. You ever thought about a career in psychiatry?" The bell rang and all the students got to their feet, dashing for the door before Mr. Simmons could lay any homework on them. Arnold asked Helga if he could walk her to luch, and it was with a giddy pleasure that she agreed. Phoebe wisely kept her distance, deciding to walk to the cafeteria with Sheena instead.

The pair separated as they entered the lunchroom, and Helga joined the queue behind Phoebe. "So," Phoebe said slyly, a strange tone of voice for her. "You and Arnold seem to be getting along quite well." Helga was immediately on the defensive.

"What's that supposed to mean? Are you implying that... I... have..." She trailed off as Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Oh yeah," she finished lamely. She had forgotten that she had confessed everything to Phoebe over the phone last night. She blushed, and Phoebe made an '_aww, how sweet!' _face. "Knock it off," Helga growled as they found themselves face to face with steam trays full of gooey foodstuffs.

"You know Helga, I've been thinking..." Phoebe said as she made her selections.

"You? Thinking? Whatever next? Brainy exhaling loudly?" Phoebe ignored her friend and carried on.

"If you were to choose a lunch of a more solid consistency, it might not be so slimy when Rhonda..."

"Dumps it all over my head? Nah, forget it Pheebs. If I'm gonna have this done to me, I might as well get it done properly. Besides, better slimy than solid. It'd suck if I was rendered unconscious by the dry end of Angie's meatloaf." As Phoebe stifled a laugh, Helga couldn't hlp but notice her mashed potato was slopped onto her tray a little more forcfully than usual.

Helga and Phoebe had barely gone two steps before Helga felt perfectly manicured fingernails digging into her arm. "Alright," she sighed exasperatedly. "Lets get this over with." Rhonda looked rather taken aback.

"No fighting words?" she asked hysterically. "No attempts to hit anyone? No horrible insults?" Helga borrowed Rhonda's sickly smile and threw it right back in her face.

"Not today," she said as Rhonda coughed loudly for everyone's attention. The cafeteria fell silent as everyone swivelled in their chairs to watch. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, Gerald took the floor.

"Helga Pataki," he said in a very quick monotone. Phoebe flashed him a thankful smile. "You lost a bet..." Rhonda cleared her throat loudly.

"Do it porperly," she said through gritted teeth. Gerald sighed.

"In the case of Rhonda Wellington Lloyd versus Helga G. Pataki in the bet set in place by Eugene Horrowitz, you lost. You were not able to be 'nice' for the duration of two months, and therefore, you forefeit. Rhonda?" Rhonda grinned like a Cheshire Cat and wrenched Helga's luch tray from her hands. Helga closed her eyes and braced herself. It felt like an eternity had passed and she still didn't feel the warm ooze trickling through her hair. She had just dared to open her eyes when...

"NOW!"

Rhonda quickly set the tray on the floor and stuck her foot out in front of Helga. At the same time Helga felt something slam heavily into her back and she fell forward, landing face first in her luch. Then she felt something wet being poured on her back, and from the small of it it could only be paint. Her nose was sore where she had struck the tray, and even though her eyes were firmly shut she could feel them watering. Shrill laughter reached her ears; Rhonda was having a field day. As Arnold and Phoebe rushed forward to help Helga to her feet she saw that it was paint that now covered her dress, orange paint, and it turned out that the hard something thatr had run into her back was Curly. Her eyes were swimming they were so full of tears.

"Gonna cry, Helga?" Rhonda asked maliciously. At any other time Helga would have shouted that it was Rhonda who was going to be doing the cryong once she was through with her, but she just couldn't face it. Instead, she stood on the spot and wept. Arnold's temper had finally found it's limit.

"That's it Rhonda!" he roared. The simple fact is, that when someone who yells a lot is yelling some more, some of the effect wears off. But when a usually calm and collected boy is screaming his lungs out for the first time in his life, and letting his rage run riot, then that is truly scary. Rhonda backed away slowly until she was pressed up flat against the wall, but still Arnold was shouting. He had completely lost control. His anger was usually well focused and channelled, but not today. Not today. "Stop picking on Helga! You're nothing but a common bully! Helga is a sweet, caring girl, and she doesn't deserve this from a spoilt little brat like you!" Helga looked up. Her tears were instantly soothed. _Arnold was defending her honour! _She felt like she was on the verge of dying from happiness.

"Look, A-Arnold," Rhonda said, trying to regain some ground and failing miserably. Arnold snarled at her.

"No, you look Princess!" he bellowed. "I don't know why you think you have some sort of holy status in this school, but let me tell you! If you want to be the top dog, you have to earn the respect, and right now you're losing that by the bucket load!" His chest was rising and falling heavily. "Helga is ten times the girl you will be!" He turned and walked away, only stopping to say under his breath; "And a hundred times prettier too." Helga thought her ears were decieving her.

-

Helga didn't go to school the next day; there was too much to do. She was glad in a way, she didn't want to ruin that elated sense of victory she had been feeling since lunchtime. That was the ultimate rush, the way it felt to hear Arnold say those beautiful words. Though she had promised herself that she would confess everything to Arnold before she left, she had come to the conclusion that even if she did it wouldn't change anything. She would still have to leave and everything would always be different between them. And also, she couldn't help but think, it was possible that Arnold _already_ knew, and that those magical words had been his parting gift to her. She smiled as she thought this, and made sure that her passport was safe and secure in her hand luggage.

-

Helga sighed as her back grew more and more painful. She had been sitting on the same chair for hours, watching the delayed take off board and waiting for her flight to be called. Bob had satyed behind to make sure all of the families possesions were flown out safely, and Miriam and Olga had asked Helga to wait for just a few minutes while they went and changed all their money into pounds. That had been three quarters of an hour ago. She couldn't leave the suitcases unattented, not even for a second so she could play on the video games, and she had never been so bored in her life. It was then hat she heard excited voices behind her.

"There she is!"

"Boy howdy, she sure looks glum."

"Maybe her flight was delayed."

"I'm so glad we made it in time."

Helga turned around and nearly fell off her chair in shock. Walking up to her on the carpeted floors opf the airport were her classmates and her friends. They all had cheery smiles on their faces, some were waving, and Sid was clutching a large bunch of balloons. Helga smiled at them all.

"Trying to sneak out the back door, huh?" Arnold asked.

"Oh Helga, how could you?" Phoebe squeaked. For a second Helga thought she was going to burst into tears, she felt a little bit like it herself, but instead the small girl flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around Helga's waist. "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" she whispered.

"Course not," Helga lied. "I was gonna call..."

"Liar," Phoebe said, smiling.

"We, er, we just all came to see you off Helga," Stinky drawled. Helga grinned at him.

"Thanks Stink-O," she said sweetly, knocking him on the chin gently with her fist. The class spent the next few minutes saying their goodbyes to Helga, some not quite sure why they were there, and a few drifting off to the arcade. There were a few people Helga really wanted to talk to though, and thankfully for her, these were the ones who hung behind.

"Brainy," Helga began after pulling him to one side. He breathed happily in reply. "I guess I never really took the time to thank you for... for never telling." Brainy's cmiled faltered and he pointed at Arnold. "Yes, about him. I should have thanked you, I know, and I definitely should have socked you a little less. I'm really sorry about that Brainy, by the way."

"Huh... uh... that's ok," Brainy said.

"And also I wanted to say that... well... if I had to have a guy on my heels all the time, breathing heavily and looking, well, faithful, I'm glad it was you." She gave him a short hug which left him rooted to the spot as he vowed in his mind to never wash again. With a final smile at him Helga went and pulled Phoebe away from the crowd.

"Pheebs," she said pathetically, not sure where to begin. "I don't really know what to say. You're my best friend, but you already know that, and I don't know what else I can say that I haven't said a thousand times before. Also, I don't want to be some sort of mega heavy cheese fest-"

"The 10:56 flight to London Heathrow is now boarding at Gate 7," a tannoy voice broke in.

"Shoot!" Helga said, stamping her foot as her mother and her sister came running up, grabbing their things and running to the gate.

"Com on baby sister!" Olga whined.

"Just a minute!" Helga hissed at her sister's retreating back.

"Well, this is it Pheebs," she said shortly, pulling Phoebe into another hug. "You're the best friend a girl could ever ask for, you know that? You've been so good to me. I love you Pheebs. Don't forget to write me."

"I won't," Phoebe promised solemnly. Helga turned to run to the gate, but she was stopped by Arnold.

"Helga, wait!"

"Arnold, man," she said as he caught up with her. "You're killing me here."

"This won't take long," he said. "Ok, first off, Mr. Simmons asked me to give this to you." He pushed a CD case into her hands. Helga regarded it for a second before throwing it into her bag. "And also... er..." He ran his hand around the back of his neck in a way Helga instantly knew she was going to miss terribly.

"What?" she asked eagerly, knowing there would be hell to pay is she missed her plane.

"I just... I just wanted to say... that, well, the last few weeks have really opened my eyes. About you, and everything that comes with you. I know I've always been the first to say that perhaps you could be a little nicer, or whatever, but I realise now that's just who you are. I was, well, pretty dense to try and change you. I like you just as you are, exactly as you are."

"Honest?"

"Honest." Helga swallowed thickly. Perhaps confession would be good for them both. She would never get another chance.

"Arnold, there's... there's something I have to tell you. I know I have this way of making you think that I don't like you... but that's, well... not true. You see, the thing is, I lo-"

"Your plane," Arnold cut in, pointing to the gate. The queue was down to the last few stragglers now.

"Right," Helga said, feeling deflated. "Um... bye then," she said quietly.

"Bye," Arnold said. A moment of awkwardness passed between them, before Helga realised what she was supposed to be doing. She bent down and picked up her bag before straightening up to look at Arnold one last time. Their eyes met for a brief second, and then, as much to Arnold's surprise as well as Helga's, he pushed himself up to his tiptoes and quickly kissed her on the lips. For a second both of them were stunned, before Helga inclined her head at the gate and mumbled; "Suppose I should be going, then."

"Suppose you should," Arnold said, his cheeks glowing with embarrassment. Helga threw him one last smile as she disappeared through the gate, and Arnold found that he remained in the airport long after everyone else had gone, just to watch Helga's plane take off.

"Bye Helga," he whispered, resting his head against the glass. "See you around."

-

**A/N: Ain't I a stinker? The next installment shall be the Epilogue, and then this long battle is finally over. Anyway, just a question, should it be 'Pheebs' or 'Phoebs'? Right now I think I prefer 'Pheebs', but if there's a proper way of doing it I'd love to know. Hand is miles better now, by the way. -Sky.**


	20. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"It's all about trying too hard, and not trying enough, and then realising you should never have tried at all. It's about having what you never wanted, while the only thing you ever desired passes you by, with his arm hooked around another girl's body. It's about crying yourself to sleep and screaming yourself awake, and just existing in between. It's about wanting revenge and wanting it all, and it's about sadness, and sorrow, and the loss of something you never ever had. It's about tiredness and physical exersion, and all the lengths you go to just to end up right back where you started.

"It makes you crazy but it keeps you sane. It makes you feel like you're dying when you've never felt so alive. It's about dishonesty and cheating, and pretending you were somewhere else when the whole thing went down, and it's about lying to yourself. It's what makes you get up in the morning, and it's what makes it forever night. There's no stopping it, there's no changing it, and there's no controlling it. There is only obeying it, and being it's slave.

"We all claim to need it, some even say they want it, but we'd all be better off without it. It drives us to try the impossible and only achieve the insane. It makes us change the way we wear our hair, the way we like to talk and the very shirts on our backs. It's makes us itch where we cannot reach and it hurts. It really, really hurts. It keeps us warm but leaves us cold inside. It makes us do downright stupid things, and yet it makes perfect sense. It goes where it wants and forces us to follow, and you cannot turn your back on it. It might be the last thing you do.

"There's no denying it's exitence. There's no way to define it by science and facts and brain scans at Hillwood Tech. There's no way to tell which kind will hit you or with how much force, but there's no way to avoid it entirely. You cannot get away, because it is a part of you. It's blood and breath and flesh and bone. It's mind and spirit and soul and it's so damn hard to live with. It's something I wouldn't trade for the world, and yet it's something I wish I'd never had.

"It's a two way thing, and when it's peddled by one party it's a catastrophe. It's a tragedy, and it's dangerous to everyone around you. It's a disease, it's a pain, but it's a reason to keep on going. What is love, you ask me? "It's something that would rather you hurt others than acknowledge it's existence. It's something I've had to put up with all my life. It's something I never had the guts to expose. It's something I shouldered alone. Love is lonliness, my friend."

A stony silence followed this speech, and then a slow hand clap finally rippled through the room. Helga Pataki did not falter or look embarrassed, she merely smiled at the rest of her classmates and sat down. All eyes were on her, and Helga liked it. She had made them think, made them feel, and made them all very uncomfortable. Slowly, and steadily, the unrest died down and Mr. O'Hara got to his feet.

"Thank you Helga, that was very... interesting," he said quietly. Helga snorted at him. If ever there was a teacher that was a slave to the syllabus, it was O'Hara. He didn't believe in abstract thought or independent ideas, something which Helga found very unsettling in an English teacher. The English Language was the most beautiful tool that Helga possessed to express herself with, and before her stood a man who believed something so undefineable should have set limits and boundries. _Love doesn't have boundries_, she thought bitterly, _so why should the words you use to express it_?

"Arnold, it's your turn." Helga lowered her eyes to her desk, wanting to give nothing away. Nervously, the blonde-haired boy got to his feet. The paper in his hands was visibly shaking, but he swallowed down the lump in his throat and carried on regardless.

"Not sure if I can really follow that," he said in a trembling voice. A small wave of laughter erupted around him that seemed to steady his jitters. Helga's face flushed furiously as she knew Arnold was looking at her, but still she did not glance up. Arnold cleared his throat.

"What is love?" he beagn, reading slowly from the paper. "Love is difficult to explain. Love just is, and for that I am glad. Love is an emotion I would never want to define, as I find that the more you know about something the easier it is to have it slip through your fingers. If I knew what love really was, I would be able to find fault with it and then I'd want to just throw it away.

"Love is eternal, I know that much. True love, anyway. The kind of infatuation that stays with you for centuries, and survives even your darkest moments.

"Love comes in many varieties. Love is the way I always watch my Grandma when she is sewing a new quilt. She's been at it for three years now, with the same blanket, and love is what makes me want to see the final result. Her endeavours are my endeavours, because I love her.

"Love is watching my friends struggle with their own hearts, and wanting to help but stepping aside, because true love always finds a way. Love is hoping that it will all work out in the end, because no one deserves to be happy more than someone who has given you unconditional love, someone like your best friend.

"Love is wanting to help people you don't even know, just because your affection for this city, this country, this planet makes you want to make it a better place.

"Love is the one person you can't get off of your mind, no matter how much you want to or how far they go. The one person who lives in your head and refuses to leave, no matter how much you beg them too. Love is constant, a faithful companion when everything else is gone.

"Love is a girl who comes home after six years and still calls you football head, just to show you that she never forgot about you while she was gone."

-

A/N: Ok, this is totally different to what was up before and much much shorter, but this is it. It's a little off-key to the rest of the story, I know, and it's disgustingly mushy, but it's better than the rubbish that I posted before. (What was I thinking?) I like to think that epilogues, (and prologues) have the licence to be a little different from the writing style of the main body of the story, or at least I'm saying that now to justify this. This was a one shot that I found that I think I wrote before HHGHMB even started, and with a little tweaking I think it fitted rather well. Or perhaps I hope... anyway, this is it. Please don't shoot me. I'm allergic to bullets.

I must have written about nine or ten Hey Arnold! one shots while I was writing HHGHMB, just to clear the writer's block. Perhaps I will post some of them up when I have had the chance to go over them too.

Thank you so much to all of my most faithful reviewers, you've been a real encouragement to me during this whole messy affair. So... (deep breath)... **Darth Roden, pink-helga, acosta perez jose ramiro, sydvicious, ahhelga, The J.A.M, Two Bit's Twobit, sakuya-kaleido, King Cheetah, yzibella, Deadly Objects, Lady Evilness, Number6, Lord Malachite and everyone else I had the sheer audacity to forget, **thank you very much!

That's it! Show's over! Go home! There's nothing to see here! - Sky.


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